Tightly Knotted Poem by Jenny Kalahar

I feel you stand behind me, Mother
as I push open the door
knowing you are seeing the wild flowers, too.
They are blossoming, entwined
growing over themselves
in the place that was once your well-tended garden
here back at home

Pinks and purples flutter in the breeze
yellow tender petals face the sun
that shines upon my upturned face, as well.
And the rays form a shadow
that looks a bit like you
and it is all that I can see of you today

Stepping closer to the flowers
where they wrestle under dew
a few vines have joined the straighter stems along the ground.
Bending to pick a solitary nasturtium—the orange you loved best
I see the vines are tightly knotted all around

The apple tree's gone wilder
and its shade's a darker gray
the birdhouse is abandoned
but the robins may come back again.
I feel you stand above me
as I sit at your garden's edge
and I feel the vines creep forward like a friend.
They tightly knot like an arm around my waist
holding me here for just a little while.
I let them travel higher,
passing over my heart
drinking from my tears
as they roll down my face