THERE IS A PART OF ME THAT DOES NOT WANT
TO DIE ALONE,
FOUND SLUMPED OVER IN A POOL OF WHAT WAS ONCE ME.
A BED WOULD BE NICE
WITH MY MOTHER STANDING OVER,
COOL HAND TO HEAD,
‘OH PEACHES, YOUR HOT, STAY THERE AND I
WILL BRING YOU SOME COOL WATER”.
I WOULD LET HER KNOW THE EXTENT OF MY WOES,
AND SHE WOULD SMILE AND PICK UP OUR BOOKS
SHE WOULD READ THEN,
HER VOICE LIKE LOVE SONGS AND PEACEFUL
WHEN SHE FINISHED READING,
SHE WOULD TAKE MY HAND AND KISS IT SWEETLY,
THEN SHE WOULD SAY,
“YOU KNOW PEACHES, WHEN YOU WERE JUST A
BABY, I WOULD KISS YOUR HANDS AND EVERY FINGER ON THEM, YOUR TOES TOO.
AND THEN I WOULD PUT MY NOSE TO YOUR NECK AND SMELL THAT SWEET BABY SCENT YOU BLESSED ME WITH.
THAT BABY SCENT THAT SEEMED TO VANISH ONE
WHEN YOU BEGAN TO KNOW WHO I WAS AND
WHO YOU WERE TOO,
WHEN YOU STARTED TO WONDER AND MAKE CHOICES
AND STARTED TO WANT TO ‘DO’.
JUST ONE DAY LIKE THE MISTS IN THE MORNING,
I STOPPED SMELLING YOUR SIGHS. INSTEAD I JUST STARTING KISSING YOU SWEETLY AS ON YOUR WAY
YOU SAID GOODBYE.
MANY GOODBYES DID FOLLOW MY PEACH
AND NOW HERE WE ARE TODAY,
HERE YOU ARE READY TO RISE AND COME AGAIN WITH ME MY WAY.
THEN SHE WOULD TAKE MY HAND AND KISS EACH ONE LIKE BEFORE
AND MY FEET AND MY BELLY AND THEN..
WHEN SHE GOT TO MY NECK SHE WOULD SAY,
“PEACHES.. YOU SMELL LIKE THE MISTS IN THE MORNING AGAIN.”
Yesterday I was helping a friend. And for some reason, death came to mind. My friend spoke of a story of her lover’s father dying and how gentle he had gotten, how he really never had been so kind.
Carlos Castaneda’s mentor Don Juan used to always say.. “Death is you friend Carlos!! Death is our Alley,, it reminds us to LIVE LIVE LIVE!!”
so then this came to me.