Marie. Mary. Saint Mary.
Saint Mary, Star of the Sea.
My Mother of Mothers.
I stepped out of the shower
scooping up your pink towel.
And simply stood.
My little pink toes sink into the soft white sand.
Your hands held mine,
swooping me up off the ground when the waves came,
rising up to meet my freckly face.
We held each other laughing. Laughing in the face of the Sea.
Our mighty mother.
I can’t see you, but I feel you.
I can’t see you, but I hear you.
I couldn’t keep you, but I love you.
I stood and let time slip away
Letting it seek refuge between the floor tiles.
Nowhere to be anymore.
No reason to move.
No one asking anything of me.
Time slowly starts to creep back to me, up my shivering legs,
To crawl up my spine.
But then I catch a scent.
The scent of lavender coddled by the salt of the Sea.
Back to its crevice Time goes.
I stood there in your love, proud to be an artist.
Proud that you were a musician.
Proud of your piano fingers.
Proud of your pearly white smile, perfect as piano keys.
That queenly smile.
I try to copy it every day, to keep a piece of you here.
I practice in the mirror but I can’t get close enough.
When you left, I felt my church inside burn down.
Pulled deep under our waves.
Sucked down by the under-toe Yogi warned me about.
Every day I find a new brick to build my church up again.
A new sight to wash me clean,
Like sand caked onto our dirty shells and sea glass.
What will heal me is inside me.
What will push me is my canvas.
I draw for you, Saint Marie.
That is how I keep you.