She left the window open so
Her soul could float free
In ways her body never could
Or mind would ever be.
There, as we arrived, she lay,
A dressing gown her cover
Along with dreams of long ago
And hopes her time was over.
She made a smile as we came in –
Bees back to some lost hive –
But soon the theme was God’s harsh laugh,
Mocking those who live.
I knew I’d stay and have to hear
Her rant against the One
Who made the sinews of the heart
And human soul His throne.
At eighty-eight her wisdom gained
Had drifted through the glass,
Now open, yet for all that stained,
The queen about to pass.
James Sale, a 2022 Pushcart Prize nominee, has had poetry and literary works published in Hong Kong, the USA, and the UK. His work has appeared in The Society of Classical Poets, The Epoch Times, The Times Educational Supplement, The Hong Kong Review, The Anglo-Theological Review, The St Austin Review, and many others. An international and award-winning poet, he currently is one of two judges for the Society of Classical Poets’ 100 Days of Dante poetry competition. For more information about the author and about his own Dante project, visit https://englishcantos.home.blog.
Sparks of Calliope 
A touching poem, James. Your mother, I presume? It would be easy to fall into satire or dark cynicism here with lines like ‘Her rant against the one’ and her wisdom drifting ‘through the glass.’ For some reason am reminded of the Larkin poem beginning with ‘They fuck you up, your mum and dad’ (assuming my hypothesis about the subject is right). But your sympathy shines through and you sustain a poignant tone throughout. Well done!
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Thanks Andrew – you are correct in your assumption!
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