This Trembling Globe

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How I loved those spiky suns, 
rooted stubborn as childhood 
in the grass, tough as the farmer’s 
big-headed children—the mats 
of yellow hair, the bowl-cut fringe. 
How sturdy they were and how 
slowly they turned themselves 
into galaxies, domes of ghost stars 
barely visible by day, pale 
cerebrums clinging to life 
on tough green stems.   Like you. 
Like you, in the end.   If you were here, 
I’d pluck this trembling globe to show 
how beautiful a thing can be 
a breath will tear away. 
~Jean Nordhaus “A Dandelion for My Mother” from Innocence
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dandybud
This is how I remember my mom at the end:
fragile, trembling,
a wispy white crown of hair,
clinging stubbornly to what was left of life
with roots that went so deep
there was no pulling them out.
Yet it only took that one last breath,
one quiet will-there-be-another
breath
to blow her away.
And she left us behind,
clinging stubbornly to those roots.
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noahgrandma
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6 thoughts on “This Trembling Globe

  1. And life is rolls on, never stopping to honor one particular moment because we humans make meaning. I remember right after my father died—too young, and suddenly from a massive heart attack on an airline—I just wanted time to stop. Notice. Take a breath. Now I’ve learned it’s up to us, the meaning-making species, to stop, notice, and take a breath even while the eternal now rolls on.

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  2. Hugs to you as you remember your sweet mama. I know just what you mean about that one last breath, wondering if there’s going to be another. I miss my dear Mama, too.

    Like

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