My mother is still cancer-free, but, obviously, very much on my mind.
The other night
I dreamed
I came to you,
as you, in a pure
white nightgown,
lay peacefully resting,
in a snow-white bed.
Your coverlet and pillows,
were freshly laundered,
plumped and soft.
And every thread of cotton,
every feather of down,
seemed to lift you aloft,
as if you were afloat,
weightless in the bed.
Your right hand lay, relaxed,
atop the white comforter,
the ruffle of your nightgown
at your wrist.
You smiled as soon as you saw me.
I went to you and sat in the chair
beside your bed.
As I reached out for your hand,
we came together
in each other’s eyes.
I lay my hand over yours.
Suddenly, through our hands,
an astounding gold-white light
flashed ecstatic through our bodies.
It was love in the form of light,
words without sound.
From beloved mother to beloved daughter,
from beloved daughter to beloved mother,
what the light of our love said each to the other was:
Thank you.
Thank you for everything.
Ann Keiffer
February, 2012
Image Credit: Google Search
