EMBRACING DEATH, A MAM POEM
By Marion Lawless
Cicadas were a singin' in the wild, dry
Summer heat the day Mam
told me the facts o'life.
Baby, she rasped as she blew
out smoke from her Pall Mall
filterless ciggie, Baby, when
Mr. Death comes a struttin' His
shit down that empty,
baked dirt road fer me,
I'm a'gonna
run like a ole bitch dog in heat
right into His open arms.
Me & Mr. Death'll be like the
Willow tree yonder in a
hurricane, the way she's
one with the wind with
every cell in every
leaf & branch.
Young'uns caint wrap their
heads 'round it, greetin' Death
hopeful-like. Not all can do it.
Yer poor auntie, she fought him
like a Tiger
an He give her up to her own fool self.
Fer three long, bone-weary years she
lay a'bed & rotted away,
real slow-like.
You don't want that...
Listen to yer Mam
and recall this when it's yer time:
when Mr. Death comes,
run straight-on to Him---
eager...just
like a long lost lover.
7/26/15
2 comments:
I like this one. How is your mama doing? Still ruling the roost at her nursing home?
She's okay, Kelly, thanks for asking. She's still bossy and ruling the roost. She has a crush on a new, muscular nursing aide dude covered in tattoos, bless her heart. (I feel her on that one!!!) She's 88. LOL! I appreciate you. I hope all is well with you and yours. Love & Blessings!!! xo
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