Singing To Dorothy Poem by Pashta MaryMoon

Turquoise sunlight rippling through the stained glass
Onto a coverlet
Bumped with tiny canine bodies wrapped around her legs —
Always a safe place to curl up and hide, she was.

Suddenly awakening — startled
'This keeps happening' she firmly states with obvious reluctance,
Back to the world of living too many times:
Hand held tight, though I know she wants to let go.

Belly peaking, almost as if she was in labour
Contractions of air grasped, seeking a way in —
A tribute to all of the struggles throughout her life?
Seems unfair to labour just to breathe through the last days.

Try as I might, I can't sing as slowly as she breathes.
But I can chant a doppled mirage of colours
Pouring and pooling around her with each out-breath.
Each stranded hue — someone she loved and who loved her,
A strength that she harboured in her wide arms,
A blessing given, known and unknown.
A slow walk of shades to the threshold:
A mantra of angels through the final doorway.
(Pashta MaryMoon May 2,2015)