She’s With the Wind
(dedicated to my sister, Holly Angela Law,
RIP, 1-8-1955/ 4-28-2012)
She’s with the wind
She has walked on
Into the light, the warmth, the love
Not alone, or unloved
Her campaigns that she fought so hard upon are done
She’s conquered life
She’s with the wind
She’s with the wind
Her life has come to an end
No stone shall bear testament
That she was here,
Except her parents’ own
And there lies only the mother in a coffin;
The father, like daughter, was caught up by the wind
Dust in the wind
But what of this gentle soul
Who never meant harm to anyone?
But who harmed her self most;
Lost within the labyrinths
Of the mind’s confusion;
She became a ghost of her former self
She spent her fire to exhaustion
Upon beliefs only she understood
She’s with the wind
She has walked on
Into the light, the warmth, the love
Not alone, or unloved
Her campaigns that she fought so hard upon are done
She’s conquered life
She’s with the wind
She’s with the wind
She influenced her sister so much
Impressed her with her wisdom;
She knew so many things
Her mind so capable of grasping complexities
Hers was a mind that reached so far,
But somewhere along the way
There can a day
Where she shot past the right entrance
And instead moseyed into a realm
She should never have ventured;
After-which she could never quite find her way back?
And she wandered aimless but thinking her goals
Were still worth attaining; not hesitating?
While leaving behind her previous goals
And finally, she was unable to work those plans nor did she try
There was a time she allowed her sister to take part
In her visionary escapades; what else could they be called?
Fantasy realizations that both believed to be all too true
Two aspiring young authors carried on the invention of other worlds
But there came a day she said to the younger,
“Go make your own world and
People it as you will and put yourself in its center;
There can be no room for two females where I am;
For I am all that a female embodies and all men here belong to me”
It hurt so very bad to be told this; pushed away after so long of sharing
And the younger sister walked down the road one day;
And slapped her own cheeks a few harsh slaps
And said, “What a fool you have been”
And yet, it was not over; it went on several more years;
It was not even that bad at the time;
Not like it came to be.
She wasn’t ready to let go of the younger sister,
Her one staunch supporter;
Nobody else was ever allowed to get as close
And so there was a bond to the end
The sister loved her older sister,
Regardless of what was said or done
She’s with the wind
She has walked on
Into the light, the warmth, the love
Not alone, or unloved
Her campaigns that she fought so hard upon are done
She’s conquered life
She’s with the wind
She’s with the wind
And regardless who understood the truth about her;
She will not let anything stop her from that love
She never turned away and the elder sister knew she was there for her
Although times passed when it was difficult to visit
In those last years after mother died;
And five years passed before the father died
But he was in declining health;
She, the oldest child, never saw him again
And he only knew how she was when
The sister told him how his oldest was;
He would nod; not say much; there wasn’t much to say
She had no family; they were dead; all but a sister;
She told those who took care of her in those last days in April;
She was right; since no other bothered to visit her, why
Would she think anything different?
She’s with the wind
She has walked on
Into the light, the warmth, the love
Not alone, or unloved
Her campaigns that she fought so hard upon are done
She’s conquered life
She’s with the wind
She’s with the wind
What impression did she make upon this world?
Well it is hard to say, the sister can only speak of the impression
She left upon her; maybe that’s all that matters.
How she came across to others- it is neither here nor there
What the sister knows is she loved her and told her so;
But saying those three words back was near impossible to express;
Yes, that hurt, but her mental illness kept her
Unable to express this emotion;
Not unusual, being from a family that found it hard to say I love you
Even though it was a tight unit and
It stayed that way until mother passed on;
And then the family fell apart; and a new chapter began;
One with the elder sister in a nursing home to the end of her life
The surviving sister thinks back to the early years
How she had gone with her and daddy while
The elder took lessons on the violin;
But after a few visits it ended; for more than one reason;
But one was the price of the lessons was too expensive;
Another being the teacher, Les Smithhart,
Disliked daddy’s simple, country ways;
Maybe even because the younger sister sat in his precious rocker
Which had been reserved for Hank Williams and
He didn’t want anyone sitting there
And the four year old sat down, not expecting the outburst;
After which she was banned from coming in.
But it occurred to the sister, many years later;
What a lost opportunity that had been; she could have been
Something like: Alyson Krause, if things had worked out;
She had a pretty singing voice;
Something like: Buffy Ste. Marie;
And if she had achieved that one goal,
Many others would have come true too
And she might never have gotten side-tracked, as she did.
When the sister cried that last day she saw her,
She was puzzled as to why she was so upset
She didn’t understand the tears;
She asked her why she was doing it.
Yes she’s in a better place; but the loss
And the sorrow that things didn’t go well in her life
That’s why the tears; and when she asked why;
the words were’ I love you’
But they weren’t returned and
When she left she meant to return,
But a ride back kept her away;
And so eleven days later, calls came;
She was gone; there would be no more seeing her in this world.
She’s with the wind
She has walked on
Into the light, the warmth, the love
Not alone, or unloved
Her campaigns that she fought so hard upon are done
She’s conquered life
She’s with the wind
She’s with the wind
©JA Wayahowl 7-20-2012
No comments:
Post a Comment