Essence of Her

she covers herself in blankets her Mamma made whether twenty years ago
or just last week

the thought of safety comforts me

every morning there’s a whistle at eight o’clock sharp
in this town where she
was raised

the example of reliability soothes me

And then, just like that

there’s a ceiling fan she cannot figure out how to shut off
its a reminder of her inability
while in the bedroom

criticism flows far too easily for me

stepping out into the world with nature surrounding her senses
there’s a peace released
acceptance implied

worthiness arrives to remind me

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17 thoughts on “Essence of Her

  1. Your first line reminded me of my mom today on the 6th anniversary of her passing. She used to sew, knit, make anything with fabric, yarn, and needles. You took me back to my childhood days where she provided love and security. How profound also that a ceiling fan can provoke self-criticism, yet, self-worth evolves in the end. Love it, Audrey! ❀

  2. Audrey, I love how you’ve intertwined two perspectives – she and me – to form one coherent poem that says so much in its two lines of thought.

    (BTW, when I was growing up we had a noon whistle we could hear a mile away. It signaled lunchtime for workers down in the lumberyard. I assumed that everyone in the world had noon whistles. Your poem took me back!)
    ❀️

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