i saw my mom last night
sitting in the garden
where we talked just
before she left for
ireland with my dad.
she was cutting
corn flowers for her
favorite korean vase.
when i was a child, it
hurt that there was no
place for me in her
unhappy mind,
no love in her heart
for her sad little
red-haired daughter
who needed her.
but now that i am sick
and dying and the
the pain creeps through
my brain until it comes
oozing slow out my eyes, i
believe i understand her.
it wasn't me. anything
i did. or said.
with a pain this big, there
isn't much room for
anything, a husband,
a smile --
or even a daughter.
with a pain this big.
i had a dream last night
and saw her sitting
in her garden. we didn't
speak but i think she's
found her peace now,
her own true self --
mother, wife, poet,
lover, friend.
