Saturday, October 6, 2012

Close to Real

I know so little about her, this mother of mine.  I am lucky to have been birthed by such an intelligent strange soul.  We shined flashlights at planets and she regaled me with stories of the origin of rainstorm thunder clouds. I can still see her hands, the hairs on her legs and her dark gypsy eyes.  So very different from my own sea glass irises.

She was according to others an odd entity, a special one with a very private personality.  They barely knew her because she never allowed anyone in.  Blessed Scorpio, tender soul... she kept herself unto herself.  She was her own person but she painted, she danced, she loved, she wept.  I remember well her passion she tried so hard to keep from The Others; how she cried with vehemence and danced with abandon.

I watched her... Watched her dance, paint, cry, lose it and loved her through it all.

Fourteen years ago she died.  Even though I can longer remember her voice or smell, the loss sometimes reverberates like a living thing.  Each passing year it changes color and depth [how do you ask your mother a question you never knew you wanted to ask and one that you know you would never ask her anyway??].  I do wish so much to hear her thoughts, her voice and what she thinks about her life.  She was so silent for most of hers.  I can still feel the moment on the bridge shortly after she died when her presence right behind me was as real as any embrace.

Because of her I learned to love our darkness and those deep creepy feelings.  To hug, not hate, our Monsters.  To wrap myself into You/Into Myself to remind you that you deserve love too despite and because of those darknesses.  It never leaves, that coldness.  It's always there relentless but to have love, to know that there are warm arms ready to surround with comfort and dark minds that understand... it is a small reprieve I know; this legacy to her, this gift to You.

This song Cutting Ice to Snow by Efterklang stretches and with those fabulous strings feels true, this love that has no physical output.  I wish I could hold her in my arms and say, "Rose you are loved.  You beautiful you, there is darkness every where and I know you feel it inside your core.  I feel it too. Come to me, I love you.  Let me heal you." 

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