One April Day

Austin, Texas

Fading memories, but I remember Mom.

One April day,
singing softly, print-dressed women and polite children,
holding long-stemmed bouquets of color on a windy hill,
praising the Virgin, so Blessed.
A springtime celebration of faith.

One April day,
beaming glances and smiles of approval toward me
singing “I am Robin Red Breast”,
dressed in a feathery-fluffed costume
among young schooled children.
A springtime celebration of motherhood.

One April day,
collecting delicate purple-faced violets splashed with yellow-brushed strokes,
gracing sun-dappled slopes,
harbingers of Spring clutched in small hands.
A springtime celebration of love.

One April day,
engulfed in spiraling clouds of sweet-burning incense carrying songs and prayers, repetitive
chants and confessions, while
fingered beads of forgiveness deliver penance for sins of the mind.
A springtime celebration of worship.

One April day,
body pained, so failed, so weak, fading memories,
not of happiness and understanding, but of sadness and doubt, waiting to be claimed. A
springtime celebration of Mom’s life.

©2010 James P. Barufaldi. All rights reserved.