down to earth

I am grateful for my mother. I see her in church and she looks aged beyond what she should look like. Her hair gray and white with a bandana to cover her ears . Her back hunched and her small stature making her look up to others not unlike a child. Her soft kind eyes gleaming out of small pits of darkish circles.

Her life is passing by and her life was so full I wish I could know more about her, about what she felt, what she thought, how she thought. Her legs race through the crowd . Her soul is like a child’s that made an accidental home inside the body of a stone flower.

I wish I had the ability to revive those petals and breathe warmth into it. To touch with my breath the entire contents of that stone. enough to tickle the gentle vivacious soul that lives there. And let it trickle new life blood through it, so that the stone flower can become a living creature again.