Nature renews itself as well as the human soul.
She Called Me Daughter
The last time I saw her
she was walking away, not once
looking back to see if I was still there.
Slightly bent and mesmerized, she continued
on to a beckoning destination, as if hearing
a voice gently calling her. I sometimes
wonder if I did not hear it too. During
my vigil of this odyssey, I swear the
farther she went away, the longer her hair
became, changing from the lifeless
sparse grey to a gleaming lustrous black
that cascaded around her shoulders.
Her clothing seemed to slip from her body
without effort, as if they were no longer
needed. Her step became more youthful and
now she appeared to be running. I stared
with awed longing, surprise and sorrow,
at the woman I had depended on for so much
and realized she was shedding her aged mask
upon leaving the shelter of the arbor;
leaving it dormant since all her seeds sown
had grown and bloomed. It truly stirred
my heart as she traveled further and further
away. I wanted to say something, but knew
she wouldn't hear me, now so faraway. I
pined at the last image I remember of her,
approaching the edge of the forest where a
group of young spirits gathered around her
with welcome. She turned now and I am sure
I espied a smile on an unlined fresh face
like the one I had seen on the day I was
born as they led her through the forest door.
And it was then a mist began to unfurl,
as the sounds of a distant drum began a
steady beat that grew stronger and stronger,
until I thought my heart would burst.
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