The Fifth Commandment

Honor your father and your mother. 

Deuteronomy 5:16 NIV

"Pretty Things"

My mother liked red roses,

red lipstick, and red towels,

anything red, actually.

Her pleasure fanned the air with warmth.

Sparkly brooches and scented soaps

cluttered her dresser drawers,

unworn and unused.

Ownership was enough.

Back in the day, she steered a red

farm tractor around mown fields,

tedding hay and singing to the sun:

A-maz-ing grace – how sweet the sound. 

Any pretty thing distracted my mother

from her chapped hands, sunburned skin, 

and aching back:

a hummingbird fluttering around the bee balm.

Now my mother sleeps on white sheets,

lifting her chin like a child

while a nurse bathes her body.

She wanders in a thicket of memories.

See the red geranium

spreading its leafy arms

toward her hospital bed.

Watch my mother close her eyes

while blood fills the needle.

Footnote: My mother passed away on August 22, 2012. I wrote this poem to honor her.