Sunday, January 16, 2011
Nightmares befell me,
and as I writhed in fear,
whimpering and mewling,
I opened my eyes.
Darkness.
Then, the door opened,
a shaft of light fell through,
and I saw a dark figure,
oh.. Mum.
She came over and said,
"What's the matter?
Are you feeling better?"
and touched my forehead.
I pulled the sheets up to my nose,
and whispered,
"Nightmares."
She whispered a soft prayer for me,
all the while touching my head,
and I fell back to slumber,
with her warm caress and soft whispers.
Sometimes,
I'll open my eyes and see her working at the computer,
light from it creating a silhouette against the darkness,
my pillar of strength and fortitude.
However,
more often than I would like,
drowning darkness greets me.
In those wee hours of the morning,
[four to be exact]
what my mother really meant to me was revealed.
Clearer to me than the rest of the nineteen years put together.
Seen through barely opened eyes,
in the half-light of coming dawn.
I miss you, Mum.
