Sunday, November 30, 2014

Because of You

In Memory of my Dad and his passing . . . December 1, 1994

Because of You

Time has passed, my Father,
since that day you left this earth,
but echoes of your life and memories
go on and on.  Your smile and your laughter
comes floating by in the wind sometimes, I could swear.
You were a tender man of many colors, hopes and dreams,
you were full of tomorrows, something better was
always on its way.  You taught me to look for rainbows
and silver linings and to keep expecting the sun at any moment
to poke its head through the clouds.

You filled your container as full as you could
with life, love, and laughter and gave it
to all your children . . . to make it our inheritance.
You lived your life in a hurry, always on the move,
gathering episodes, telling your funny tales, dreaming your dreams.
So I guess it was to be, that you had to leave before the chapter closed.

And yet, dear man, you always found the time to dry our tears,
comfort our fears, and chase the boogie man away
so that we too . . . could believe in tomorrow and smile.
You shared things, so simple, so good  . . . the real things,
the keepers, the ones that mattered.  Your love made us strong,
knowing we were wanted and cherished. You stayed through it all,
the good times and the bad, and because of you . . . we learned
the art of loving children . . . of our own.

Joanne Cucinello

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

She Can Rest Now

I'd waited a hundred years it seemed
to find the grace of forgiveness.
Give it up . . .  Let it go! . . .
something whispered in my dreams at night.
Nothing is worth the price of your soul!

But I, knowing that there would be
nothing left to hold onto without that pain,
decided to fasten it, like a scapula, to my skin
taking it with me at every chance
so that I could feel that feeling pinned
to me and never forget.

One day, without warning,
like the sun parting the clouds
In my heart I saw her, my Mother,
a child lost and forgotten
a waif with sorrow so deep I could not bear
and it all passed before me, her life
her loneliness inconsolable and hopeless
her mind disheveled and searching
for someone, anyone
to wrap her and rock her to sleep
and never have to say goodbye.

I let it go that day, and looked beyond my own pain
to this woman gone, my mother, whose life
I would not trade, nor could I change, waiting for
forgiveness that she knew would set me free.

Joanne Cucinello    2014

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