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I MISS THE CHOIR WE WERE TOGETHER
by Donald Standeford She could've been One of many Different beings; A guardian angel Appearing at illnesses Or accidents To provide a young boy With relief, She could've been a Barrel chested pastor Smashing his mountain fist On podiums, thundering From thick Old Testament Lips. Her hair Could've been Dropped For me to climb out on Or her voice muted, And I forced to read her Every movement As she peeled potatoes, Pleasant In her silence At dining table, or As she walked From room to room Pushing the Hoover Vacuum. Or As she carefully Placed ten dollars In my hand, To spend at Ray's Market On popcorn and Hershey's (Her favorite treat for movie watching), She could've been a prophet From some ancient time, Sent 2,000 Years into the future, Cross the globe, An evangelist who'd seen Christ Raised up on a cross, Who had shed tears Upon the lovely Body, wiped the lovely blood Off His own hands, And whose words came From the mouth of God. I thank God, she was, And that she was my mom. We shared life lovely, And life hard, our hands Intertwined, our hearts Entwined, Praying At the dining room table. I thought I knew her, Didn't Until Wind lifted her Into full glory Her fingers encir- cled round mine, We knelt, prayed, prophesied, Hands of the shepherdess, Hands in prayer, Hands Anointed, Hands lifted To a higher time; my voice, When I had no articulation; my conscience; I had no need to be reminded, I thought; Mom was a choir for a chosen few; She taught me sobriety, Talked me out Of my depression, Taught me to cling to the crumbs Of his body, And I did regain my health. She was anointed With prayed over oil, Driven By powerful but silent Winds On the wings Of knowledge. I swallowed Like a tiny nested bird All the meat she fed me In chunks, But now that she's gone I miss the choir singing To dawn Though I sing with another, I thank God for giving her to me. Don V Standeford http://www.donstandeford.com Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |