It's Good Friday, Mom
Dad and Susie come to me in dreams
you come to me in the daylight
when I am awake, thinking and moving
it’s Good Friday, and
I miss you, mom
I know your presence well
in the brief silence after a song in church
your tears well up and hold ponds in the bottoms of my eyes down to the tops of my cheeks
I see your high beautiful red cheeks, the small Indian blood that is bound to you
I curl up now, in bed reading
I hear you tell me to do this and forget about the world, get so enthralled get so lost
the book turns me into someone else for a while
my, I am somewhere else, I am somewhere else!
I think of you in March and April
months when I most sympathize with you
dates of death of family we love
quiet grief and rejoice
I think of you in May when we have our birthdays
we want to celebrate together, however far apart
it’s Good Friday, mom, and
I’m thinking of you.
Stacy Shutts is from Ohio and currently preparing to complete her Peace Corps service in Paraguay. With writing, she's found herself overwhelmed and intimidated here, challenged by the number of stories she felt involved with as an "integrated outsider." The simplicity of pen, paper, and solitude is meaningful to her personal development and reflection. Next, she will move to Alaska to work and live with her sister and she looks forward to much debriefing of her last two years in quiet spaces, with pen and paper.
© 2014 Window Cat Press