| Innisfree Poetry
| Enskyment Journal
Scams | Stars & Squadrons |
By Sonny Sherry Brigger
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There are days when the sound of my mother comes through to me as if she were
still here. Cuts through my pain, my joy, my musings - all that would separate
us. It is not a voice as we know the human voice to be, but a voice nonetheless.
It is something I recognize for what I wish it to be and I stand enrapt as she
pours herself back into my life, her passion becoming mine.
As people are want to sometimes do, in even the most common of cases, I sought
to assess the situation, give it my spin, as it were. Not the best plan perhaps
for a person of my background and prone to such under-statement. However, in the
spirit of involvement and not wanting to appear as lacking inspiration, I dove
right in with due respect, watching for clues that in all likelihood weren’t
Stories of her nature, given as a gift from the past by those who may well have
known her best, shed the warmest light on her values and the way she defined
herself. Perhaps it is only now that I can begin to fully appreciate and, in
part understand, the woman I saw as keeper of the home - provider of what a
daughter needs - the person I called mother.
We were never far from knowing each other, our days as parent and child flowing
as such days often do, without the benefit of comprehension or the weight of
necessity. Those things we seemed not to miss, managing quite well on tiny
gestures, the very whimsical strands of what held us together. Don’t we all know
how the thinnest threads can bind tightly.
When I was small, with early memories of her place in my world, I did not wonder
at what she was about. I did not question the direction of her life or what had
come before me. Even then I was no student to the lessons she gave. It is the
curse of youth to always move ahead with little regard to what is being left.
From the start, we were well beyond lullabies, having moved almost immediately
upon acquaintance into the deeper tones of what we considered the essence of
our relation. I wanted to be near her, striving for that pureness of sound which
seemed to emanate from her soul, drawing others into the same web where I lived.
After becoming accustomed to it, she really cared more than was intended though
it had no impact on the overall package.
If you were to enter those doors, in the same fashion many of us did, you might
as a matter of course, wonder at what it was you heard. You might think you had
it figured out and that nothing was as you first expected. I, myself, had put
the pieces together without help, without the faintest of encouragement and at
the end, without any real cause. In retrospect, the hardest part was being OK
At some point, I began to trust, going with what I perceived as a line of truth
and yet, I think I really knew better. One could hold steady and let the fates
lead or one could simply lock down and allow any creative juices which dared, to
project an acceptable kind of answer. I never made a conscious decision to close
my mind, for all the good it would have done.
Several times I grabbed hold, as tightly as anyone can in recognizing something
has broken loose, to the minimum edge. It was easier than you might imagine,
this grasping of what was seen as elusive. I couldn’t put a name to it or
readily define the state of being. It was as if we were caught in some slippery
maze with no foothold in sight and no will to stop going.
Why then, you ask, did we? When all is nearly lost and that feeling of self has
dropped from view, what remains? What is ever worth the cost of search. This
business of being able to distinguish that which is outside of us from that
which has worked its magic toward sealing the rift, was not what you might
think, or what you might once have thought. It is a separate issue entirely.
So, then, in moving forward, in searching to break away from all known methods,
I falter only momentarily, simply a blip in time, nothing more. I would ask only
the allowance to sort what is to be taken along, knowing always that what knows
me, owns me.