I watched the widowed mother
pause on the steps of
Matilde of the Sacred Heart,
a sight in black and white
posed in a black polyester dress,
maneuvering
cautiously down
cracked white concrete,
and I studied her
studying my children
across the street
in the
catholic park,
riding their bicycles and hiding
behind summer trees and sharing
their lovely laughter,
and it gave her
and it gave me
and it gave us
a précis of her new world.
she considered the words
spoken in
the privileged language
of prayer,
still, inside, chanting, inside,
in an idiotic, monotone
an old rubric
gutted by a god
prone to soliloquies
and
she hailed a cab
for someplace else.
Ordinary Handsome 
Beautifully poignant capture, Steven. The way you expanded her entrance from the past into the decisions of a new reality is so masterful.
Always such a joy to read you.
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Thanks so much, Kelly. 🙂
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Always my pleasure. 🙂
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a god prone to soliloquies — I loved the whole poem, but your lines about god and prayer were what stood out.
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Thank you, I’m glad you liked it. 🙂
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Powerful writing. You have created an outstanding moment of braking from the chains of the past and starting something new.
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Thanks so much, and thank you for reading.
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Beautiful. When my husband died in January, I discovered that finding the new “normal” really does start almost immediately.
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Oh, my condolences to you. I hope you’re doing well.
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Thank you. Actually, that was part of what made me appreciate your poem. Focusing on the future makes it easier to remember the past fondly rather than painfully.
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I’m very glad. Best wishes to you, and thank you for letting me know. 🙂
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A lovely metaphor for the passing of one type of life into another, Steven. Stunning descriptions. —- Suzanne
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Thank you kindly for your wonderful comments.
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