#31 (May 1, 2013)

Celestial Arrival

How bitter! To foresee
My own celestial arrival--
Having detached
My mother's soft-clad soul
From mine,
My only sight her blindness.

I feel myself embrace her,
Yet do not know
Her cheek,
The roughness of her hair,
Her coldness,
Her frailty.

I note my bold intrusions,
My failure to recognize
Her eyes, the firmness
Of her shoulders, sharp and fine,
In immeasurable formlessness.

How pitiful I once was,
A mere vessel
For a spirit
I no longer remember.

(c) Hannah Six, 2013

#31 (May 1, 2013)