Thursday, November 29, 2012

she is ether

Written on the one-year anniversary of my mother's death (12/06), but edited and written in my journal on 1/07.

She is ether
and I am silent,
watching her as a mist
rising over the mountains -
a favorite spot
from where I sit in a vast meadow;
The sun has just risen,
and golden slats of sunlight
pour through her
as the wind wraps her arms
tighter around me.
She is thought; she is formless;
She is ether.

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