by Faith Smith
Faith, close your eyes. Envision
the shadows of your mother’s love.
Taste the bittersweet tears you left
in the river banks along the Mississippi
ruins. Leave it all behind. Put your
hand in mine, and let’s walk along the
shore and leave our footprints buried
beneath the sand.
Faith. Faith, I hope you’re listening. Take
the auburn leaves we collected at the
Boston Harbor, and allow them to whistle
into the wind like a spirit descending
beyond the heavens. Let them be no
more. Your mother will always be
your mother. Like cupid resting on the
crescent of a full moon, there will never
Take the emerald stone you left
in your father’s pool, and let it drown
in the blood of the dead. Your father is
your father when you’re not there. He
might’ve forgotten, but your mind is like
an empty field filled with dandelions
blowing in the wind. Memories float in
the air, and your father was never there.
Faith, open your eyes. Let them follow the
dusty trail that leads to a mirror holding
your reflection. Smile. Your heart is an empty
bird’s nest yearning to find her young. Let
this pass and you’ll learn that everything
lost is left in the sunset.