Wages of Her Clouds


The intimidating message hurls signals of confidence, as imbedded blemishes of struggles sink beneath her eyes. Her voice shakes with broken syllables and the summation of her experiences makes many quiver with a softened sickness inside.


Unlike the days of eagerly watching her prepare buttery cornbread to compliment her large pots of beans or hot tea cakes and homemade ice cream, today I watch her sip. She sips slowly. However, fire rises from her aged smile. Nervously, she signs each page of her clouds.


It is far from her days of fetching fresh eggs from the chicken coop and working outside with her curly hair blowing in the humid air. I vividly remember the multitude of chores she managed during those simmering days. Her resilience showed. Her detailed life I have read – meanings resonate for miles.


Now when she stands – she appears strong and there is a brewing glow. Growing old – but she holds on to her energetic flow. Her unspeakable stories are riveting and some too traumatic for me, but all too colorful not to be told. Opposition and critics didn’t deter her drive that causes me to be bold.


Life now manicured, she sits on the front row. A train of wisdom, she’s a book of courage. I gather lessons of her unpolished life – I’m her Eagle, actively guarding her nest. I run with her ideas as she gazes the horizon of yesterday. Today she’s entitled to rest.


Her years of tears has shaped my outlook. Yet – beauty reflects in her hazed eyes. Her auditory styles of teaching resides in me. Her unwavering souls flies high. I admire and love what she gave me to work with and to share with others. I’m filled with her binding love.