you are a work of art,
the celestial individual that vibrated with the desire for life,
to enjoy that which you earned
that which you fought for
that which you were willing to spit into the face of God for;
and for that you never were,
but you were and you did!
you existed and were mother to any and all that needed it,
daughter to any and all for whom you could share a space with,
wife only to one, my father,
who in your absence is still whole
and yet missing his half which completed him.
you are the resilient cry of war,
having been bred and raised in war;
you are the translucent made solid
with the childbearing hips which carried me,
carried your daughter,
and carried the daughter that came before that who lived for just long enough for you to desire her
and in the void that was the absence of her laughter her smiles her physicallity,
you filled that love into my sister's and mine's cup
until it runneth over.
you completed the puzzle of the household you built with your man,
and now we find ourselves empty of vitality
but we will find it again --
for that is your legacy;
the triumphant swan song of those who yearn and search and find and succeed.
I miss you dearly and fondly and eternally, Mother.
I hope you see your father again, for, despite all of his mistakes and his transgressions, helped form you
the woman who filled more space
than the void that you now leave behind.
Rest at peace, Ma,
for we will meet again and I will tell you all about the things i did the things that I saw,
things that you were never allowed or knew how to dream about, but that because of you,
I am able to live.
goodnight and goodnight.
