His mother chokes... Grapes..
Beware the skins! In age,
Lurk many changes.
"Can... we... go now?" she
Rasps, hoarsely, as if movement
Heals stasis, heals all.
My mother would choke
Yet still reach for her dinner.
Old habits die hard.
Momma's beyond now.
In dreams, she is quiet, just
Like brother Richard.
Families... lifetime
To lifetime, how long does this
Process continue?
Momma filled her home
With Chinese art, a lifetime
I too remember.
So many enslaved,
Momma, Poppa, thousands more
Down in the valley.
I and others fought
To free them. Later, freed, they
Walked the long road home.
"You can write poems
Anytime," says he, just like
Momma said to me.
"Look at this!" He points
To fields whizzing by. I lost
Much work by waiting.
Now I write when time
Pauses on life's river here.
Unfurl like ivy.
Reach out, reach up, stretch,
Lift my tendrils to the sun,
Breathe in air, rain, sky.
Hold on, let go, glide.
Life is an amazing leap
In this green forest.
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