Unending Tendrils Of Love
That’s where I come from.
Brought together in interminable endlesssness.
They raised my Mother.
They talked to her of God and guilt and shiny shoes and arithmetic.
They pointed to their heart, the cross.
Answered unanswerable questions
with unending determinism.
The seed of spirituality
planted deep beneath the soil
waiting for the rainy season
German soldiers drinking beer across the street.
My Father, a little boy, doesn’t know them but he sees them.
They return to him in his dreams
Fifty years down the pathway of time.
He sees them still sometimes with his eyes closed
or his eyes open.
His Mother saw them and knew then and still she planted in her children
small seeds of love
They meet one day
he and she
far from the guns and nuns.
On a Country street.
Their hearts waver in recognition of each other
Their lives intertwine
the seeds planted long ago beneath the deep brown soil are watered.
They unfurl and poke through and rise up toward sunlight.
Watered by the other and by God.
I come to them on a grey still day.
Bringing smiles and trials
They care for me together.
Through Seasons and harvests
of plenty and abundance
of drought and of flood.
They teach what they know.
Not of Nuns and of guns.
But of love and of hard work and kindness and God.
And family and love and of looking above
for the answers to questions that burst from our souls.
A daughter, just for them.
To share in their love.
One day his Season finds its end.
No more water.
No more guns.
And endless ending to his life here amongst his garden and family.
Returned to the God who gave him his life and his Mother, his wife
and his others.
She watched him and tended
She cared and she watered as his life left his eyes
and his cheeks sunken,
His hands greyed
His voice staid.
She carefully tended each last flicker of life.
Carefully cared for as he left behind this life.
So there are some things, some fun things
I couldn’t tell my Mother.
I couldn’t tell my Mother of the smallest mistakes she made
Because she tended my father in
his last endless days.
With unending, tendrilling kindness.
Far away from the Nuns and Guns.