Old bedraggled
typewriter
emerging from
the tangle
of Time
& weeds
its rotted ribbon
still a defiant banner
held aloft
in the war of the years
black bleeding into red
this maker of words
creator of worlds
an angry E key
rusted into a raised fist
ready to strike
(a corroded gesture)
stilled in time
its question mark missing
my fingerprints still adhering
to some faded letters
still remembering
my mind
though grounded now
in earth & dog shit
a fallen leaf
taking the page's place.
Here at the center
of my garden
I leave you
to your fate
rusted into sculpture
or symbol
where the seasons
like ghosts
visit you
speaking only in memories
here you
now
throwing off your cloak
of snow
to encounter
yet another summer
writing now
the wind & rain
that passes
through you
singing
your dearest songs
(though hardly any hear you)
writing now
of Time
with nothing but
time
offering me
these words
like a prayer
to the dying
as I bring you back
to life
this one last
time.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/during-wind-rain-in-memory-of-my-mother-ita/
