There is her silent calling,
a tiny golden thread that leads directly to the center point of my existence.
There is no reasoning behind it that I can understand,
only my knowing that this is the truth.
Her exhale is my inhale.
If you strip me naked, beyond skin and flesh,
what you will find is her essence.
The scent of grace in the form of a yellow rose.
When I awaken it is her beauty that I see
and when I sleep I imagine her delicate hands holding another.
Please don't ask me to explain where the birth place of this love comes from.
It bewilders me.
I only know that it is my purpose for my living.
Her eyes are in everyone that I see.
Her silent call to act, to be, to love
echoes through my being...
In the grandeur of her vastness, some tiny part of herself has made a home in me.
Did she know this before she bid us farewell?
She must have because she held me just enough, listened just enough, smiled just enough for me to live a fuller life, to love my mother more and be grateful for the gifts I do not always recognize.
When the breeze touches me just so, I hear the earth whisper back to me the sound of beauty, the sound of my dear beloved...
L i n d a