ASH WEDNESDAY ON THE FARM
Jeanie Brehl

Sweaters still scented with Chloe'
drawers still held surprises: broken rosaries
Bridge tallies, one pearl earring, peppermints
Pictures of her as a baby, of us as babies.
Mom now six weeks passed
That last day in four poster bed hovering between
Our love and heaven love. Then softly she left.
Lives now forever less full, ourselves less loved

Mom, Grandmother, friend, everyone's life ring.
She stirs in memories of holidays,
birthdays, wedding days… everydays.
Twenty stockings hung with love
for children grandchildren… puppies.
Mom, Santa's Mrs.Claus
Our perfect Mother

*************************************

Hair tufted by radiation, knowing of her dying
Worrying for gifts for giving
Tractors, trucks, toys opened too soon
Santa cards with feeble signings.

Oxygen tank pumping, wheelchair creaking,
charts, charts, food allowed and not
medicine given three times a day, four times a day,
five times a day, medicine replacing medicine
Grown children eyes dazed in stunned shock
Mom in wheelchair smiling her blue eyes twinkling
As toddlers drive candy red tractors over carpet
through oxygen tubes

       ********************
Furniture, china, crystal treasures
divided eldest to youngest
in each frigid room
Furnace relieved of responsibility refused to ignite
Our breath, we saw inside that January winter night
Three boys and a girl, calling up memories
Remember when? One time we….. She loved that…
Tenderly, we touched each discovery
Silver monograms whose?
We should have asked….
Three men and a woman bearing sharp
unspeakable loss
Mementos packed carried to distant dwellings
Others could not undo our refuge, homestead,
Leaving their portion behind waiting for a time

***********************************
March morning yet dark
Ancient wiring corrupted, fire flared
Through the house fanned by dawn breeze
Firemen from all around could not appease
Siblings called siblings, called children,
called grandchildren and then back round again
It's gone; it's all gone…to the ground.
Fresh tears flowed, fresh sobs uncontrolled
Rubble now, floors walls roof disappeared
Chimney monuments of century brick stand watch
Over curious crevasse holier than church
Yet her presence lingers lovingly
in relics of home

I walk in ashes stooping for pottery piece
Sugar bowl blackened broken
Sooty hands--Ash Wednesday on the farm
Standing in debris, wires, glass crunching at my feet
Charred file cabinet, skeletal radiators
There her tortured, twisted, walker standing in shadow
Screams batter my throat for release
Memories plunge ripping into my soul
Tearing from my soul

                        *****
Dogwoods lacey viewing of spring sky
Who forgot to halt it? There a daffodil!
Birds nesting, nestled high in chimney grate
Midair where my room ought to be.
Get out damn birds. Get out!