Whispers in the Wind
I hear her whistle in the wind.
Her hum:
a sweet melody that carries,
that soothes,
that calms the rising pain in my chest,
that quenches the loneliness—partially.
I feel her presence within these walls.
Within the tastefully matched curtains,
that brightens and refreshes
those gloomy days
and lures in hopefulness.
Mama,
The woman who carries
me, who nurtures
who rids the world of all ill intentions,
surrounds me still
during my most vulnerable moments
when the pressure becomes too great
and the weight of it all threatens to crush me.
She’s in the mirror
with eyes that will me forward
She’s in my thoughts,
in my memories.
Mama,
The woman who carries
me, who nurtures
and casts away the darkness,
drives me onward
even though she’s long gone.
Edit: Erynn Crittenden
