NIGHT LIGHT
my mother is curled up like an infant/ beneath my
caring eyes & tiny fingers/ her arms resting like
wings in her long white nightie/ & upon the cold
striped sheets, her breast, her golden crucifix/ now
catching the glint of the woolworths light/ with
its bubble pink fitting/ the necklace is a charm
which anchors me to her living/ on many occasions
she has almost lost it/ beneath mats & carpet/ in
cracks of lino & loungechairs/ drawers & cupboards/
but she searched like a mad woman until she found
it/ & she kept hanging in there/
hovering above
herself on my bed/ strengthening her motherly aura
for my adoration/ but behind her something other
was hovering/ light brighter than my bedside lamp/
often it shrank back behind my heavenly father/
lighting up the blue paint on the wall/ it made
him seem darker/ & i wished him away into its
brightness/ but was frightened of losing him/ i'm
breathing the night light in/ like frost it touches
everything/ giving spirit to our skin/ my mother
says: we are the victims of the present but
somehow we are protected/
but i could feel her
folding in/ her gentle marital hibernation/ & my
father's wintry words against the wood of her cool
changing/ i prayed for the night light to come
into us all/ i kept my children's bible open/ my
uplifted arms running towards the gentle hands &
peaceful cloth of jesus/ & the frail night light
hovering out of reach/ nothing in sunday school
could prepare me for this/ the angry prayer of
refuge unanswered & hanging before the household/
the expansive doubt creeping in/ my father's
sacrifice of his own good strength & my mother's
body offered up to him/
& the sheer cutting light
of heaven retreating/ faith dying in my pupils/
& grey tears rolling downwards/ & an adult world
looking into my eyes/ saying: she has eyes like
whirlpools that draw you in/ she's a stormy child/
you never know what she's thinking/ & there are
children floundering in my oceans/ when they
should be in the lifeboats/ & one is sobbing in
my lungs/ & the angel with the kind grey eyes &
opened palms is singing/ & the song is the end
of playing & the beginning of praying/ i am left
unanswered for a long time/ by adults frightened
of drowning |
