She was neither here nor there
In debate in another tongue
Tearing out the IVs
With savage, no more of this.
The soul does not just leave;
It wanders through the veil
And retreats,
From one home to another.
As though waiting for new sheets
Not yet pressed.
The vase of flowers,
Being arranged.
She was neither here nor there
Where are you, Mom?
You’re picking flowers and
Reaching for delicate things.
And placing them peacefully to rest
Next to you: These little treasures.
Do you see Dad?
No, why do you ask.
Do you see the light?
Silence.
The soul does not just leave;
It wanders.
It leaves three shiny pennies
Lined in a perfect row
On hot pavement between two cars
For me to see,
Knowing that She would have picked up
Those little treasures.
But not I: She knew that I would resist
But understand the message.
Her final departure: The Third.
Copyright© 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard
Image: http://sci.rutgers.edu/forum/showthread.php?102361-Galton-s-Paradox-What-is-the-probability-that-three-coins-will-show-the-same-side\
Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver 