Flower

She was born on a kitchen table there
she cried and laughed for the first time there
was hurt and comforted
bled and healed
walked and ran
jumped and skipped
fought and loved
She lived her first 14 years there

She told many stories of living in La Loma
many visits with her and without her
but never to the exact spot
where her house once sat

Today we took her remains up the road
along the ridge
through some bends
and onto where the house once sat

I poured out some for my father
I poured some for my aunt
Then my daughter and I walked down
Where the house once sat
We saw some old stairs under brush
The earth was soft and giving

We began shaking ashes out onto the ground
in circle over where the living room was
the kitchen
the bedrooms, we think

The grass was dry
The only life was this single flower facing West
towards where the sun sets
where the spirits leap off to
we knew it was there for her and us


Driving off I thought of death as hopefully being able to visit and be at anytime, any place you want. Being able to re-live, seeing what you did. I could think of no other joy for my mother than for her to be able to run in that Loma barefoot and free as she once was and will always be.

To all our relations...