Mother

for some reason we called you Mother

once we were old enough to stop saying Mommy

You never liked it

the formality of the term

kept us, your children,

at a distance

Perhaps it was the distance learned

early on

as a protection from

the twining seeking 

claws and hands 

inhabiting 

the inharmonious family tree

Mommy and Daddy became 

Mother and Father 

and then Father became 

nothing but a fuzzy undefined shape

taken from my childhood 

Memories 

I could never tell

what “actually” happened 

or what were dream visions

captured on my journey 

late at night

Like the time I dropped the glass two-liter bottle

on my sister’s foot

as we walked down the street

making our way to the Milk Store

Then we went home 

peered out the basement windows

at the emerald green aliens 

camouflaging themselves 

in the bushes outside

Your birthday was on Saturday

but you are no longer here on Earth

instead, a part of the ether 

everything that envelopes all that we know

as real

So many times you said to me

“I won’t be here much longer”

But I didn’t want to believe you

Somehow, I thought you would stay here

hold on 

I don’t know why

I’ve always felt the presence 

of those who have departed 

shifted

let go of their form

You always called those souls to you

they entered your living room

kept you company

broke your solitude

(and sometimes your plates and glasses)

Until they grew restless 

and would no longer live in your world

they told you it was almost time to depart

Ultimately, after the stroke

the pull of the immensity 

all that dazzling beauty 

unbound from this strange container

earth, skin, uttered syllables 

became too strong 

Your once firm and capable body 

had grown weak

your mind detached

your voice lost

It was time 

time to go

Though your physical being is now 

simply ash

still, you are my mother

Mom