A glimpse of a full moon
On an early Thursday morning.
You look at the living room
And discover
A presence long gone.
And there is nothing
You can do.
Nevertheless
My daughter lives
In murals dedicated
To brave women of a Southern town.
My daughter lives
In postcards
Celebrating radical love.
My daughter’s spirit
Thrives in symposium
Analyzing and defining
Our perilous life and times.
She is gone
Now at peace
In the cemetery
Of an ancient town.
But her memory
Lives with me
The battles she fought
And the worthy causes
She espoused.
Acceptance
Is recalling her last picture
Lifeless on a mountain trail.
It is a lesson
On courage and acceptance
Watching her body
Engulfed in flames
In a crematorium
One early evening
In the City of Smiles.
It doesn’t matter now
Because her spirit
Is so much bigger
Than the short life she led.
Full moon
Now a faint image
As sunrise beckons.
I take a walk
And buy a rose
On my way
To the nearby cemetery.
