For my mother

Growing up with my mother
was like taking  a drive through foreign lands.
She brought me to places many never find.

Her heartbeat was the first sound I ever heard.
Enclosed within her I had no idea of the adventures
she would take me on.

She was honest. She was brave.
She held me in the face of my overwhelming father.
Her tears were full of compassion that I would come
to know as h er own special blend of light and dark.

I gave myself over to her.
She was my sherpa through a minefield
I followed her steps like a patient wanderer
wondering at her mind so smart and swift.

We held hands during gathering storms.
When I wept, afraid, she comforted me
with nightly prayers.

When kids bullied  and picked on me she
told me to pray for them.
"they don't know better"
I would pray to God, hoping to
teach them compassion for one who was different.

She took me to psychic fairs where I learned
the art of pyramid meditation.
she took me out on a dark night
to find Bigfoot in the deep, dark woods.

She taught me not to lie saying
"You're like Saran Wrap. I can see right through you.
Tell me the truth and the punishment will be less.
Lie to me and it will go worse for you."

I remembered that.
She tried to help me with my fears--held me close
when I cried--tried to understand me.

Nothing takes that away.
Not the ups and downs.
Not the hard times.
I just remember her voice--her sweet, soft touch--
her joy at my successes. Her kindness with my failures.
She was my guide through a bewildering wilderness.

For my mom on September 10, 2015