How precious this gift
of my daughter's presence
while she breaks from university
To turn and find her standing there
wanting nothing, just closeness
Rich conversation as she seeks to
find her path of faith
from religions fraught with
baggage of mankind
Still struggling with identity
but step-by-step gaining bits of authenticity
Still hating but yet here to losing ground
to compassion and grace
How does one, at nineteen, have
such style
such courage to state belief
and not back down
Such strength to study hard, work
long, and still hit the pavement
running--even in the cold
Yes indeed
a precious gift
this baby child of mine
I'll miss her when she moves
back to Diamond St and
Temple and Starbucks...
remembering when I sip my coffee.
Last month, as my mother lay dying, April drove me each evening after work, to Landis Homes, and sat and read and waited for me. She kept the fires burning at home, some times literally with a welcoming fire in the fireplace when I got home from work. She was sleeping in mother's room with me the night my mother died. I could not have made it through that week without her presence and companionship. I am grateful. I wrote this poem a week before mother became unresponsive and subsequently passed to eternity.
