I imagine my mother
The day of her birthday
Gowned in her wine stained pajamas,
Regal still
In her sadness.
Exiting her room
Like a moon in daylight - pale, distant-
Walking barefoot and unbalanced,
Her fifty five years facing her like a mirror,
Silent, probing, and judgemental.
Mother, her smile would be splintered
And hungry
For another cigarette,
And her nerves would have started to crumb
Like mountains battered with age.
We can always tell
When it's time
To hush
And whisper.
I can imagine her
Sitting on the sofa, legs folded,
Her slippery eyes reflecting the TV screen,
A movie watched twelve times
Or more.
A damsel still
In her solitude, a life lacking love,
But her mind is a harbor
For castaway memories and pasts
She will never recover.
Life has overcome her
One seems to think,
With her sobs stuck like a chicken bone
In the back of her throat.
With jaded hearts we stare at her
Like defeated cheerleaders,
And we take out our white flags,
Lift them midair,
But again she rises
Resilient as the sun,
Fixes her long hair
And blows out the candle.
