A Cleared Away Path of Worthiness
I long to uncover the roads
my mother would have chosen.
Each year I live beyond her age of death,
I stack time like firewood against my house.
I gape at the shimmer aging can bring–
how golden light of a longer life
unveils a cleared away path of worthiness.
I long to record our talks in my kitchen,
a glass of wine in her hand,
her brown eyes seeing me,
finally seeing this life I have built
one log upon another,
stoking embers of time.