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If you have lost your mom


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This speaks to me as we always spent our summers together camping, especially last summer after she was diagnosed but always before that. Now it is just not the same.

"Sitting in the Grass"

by Anele Rubin

Sitting in the grass

under the stars

by the extinguished fire,

sitting there after the last trip

with a jug and a pail of water,

amazed at how long the wet logs

continue to sizzle,

mistaking a firefly in the grass

for a spark,

confusing, as I look up,

stars and fireflies,

thinking, though, about my mother,

looking at the brilliant pricks of light

in the dark sky,

at the dark shapes of trees,

darker than the sky they stand up against,

thinking about how much I love

that which is no longer visible,

telling my mother out loud,

not loud, really, but very quietly

saying her name,

the personal name I had for her,

speaking it to the night sky

as our ancestors would

pray to those

who went before

and lit a path back

to the source.

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