Today is the third anniversary of my grandmother’s death. She was a woman of untold dignity and grace. May we all be as strong as her. In remembrance of her I dedicate this poem: to her and to all of the dead, most especially the forgotten ones. Grandma, you are greatly missed and we hope to join you in your eternal happiness.
My head turns to catch the hint of baby powder on the air.
I remember that faint scent rising from your skin.
I long for that quiet rattle of rosary beads,
The soft exhalation of sighs from between your lips
As you whisper glorifications to our Blessed Mother.
My eyes meet those of a stranger,
The welcoming smile on my lips dies.
Those cold eyes are not the familiar blue that mine seek,
Blinded by clouds across their vision.
Wrinkles that dance and a sweet shy smile.
Water drips from eyes that seek
No longer able to distinguish reality from dream.
Which are you so long lost to me?
My arms ache to embrace you tightly,
Cling to you as you shelter me.
My nose filling with that sweet scent uniquely yours:
Of rose petals and baby powder
With the smell of oranges clinging to your hands.
I dream of returning and seeing you there.
Not the cold lifeless body I left behind that final time,
Lips tinged blue and sorrow like a perfume on the air.
Rather that serene Madonna who sat in her chair.
A regal queen that caught my heart,
My shining warrior surrounded by celestial guardians
Who guided you to a place where I cannot yet follow.