Hydrangea

Hydrangea

 

“I’m here,” proclaimed her eyes,

            Suddenly unclosed and piercing,

            Darting and blue:
                       Vigorous.

 

Weak-necked and heavy-headed,
            “Stop mourning!” her pride choked,
            Gasping for breath:
                        Combative.

Sustained by science and love,

            By tubes and tests, prayers and will,
            Pillow-propped up:
                        Bionic.
 
Bruised and scabbed, body failing,
            Limbs puffy and empretzeled,
            Her wits in waves:
                        Acerbic.

“Take me home,” cajoled she sweetly

            To others, winged and unseen
            To us, again:
                        Accepting.

With mustered might,

Unimagined will,
Inerrant beauty, then
                        Transforming.
 
Sallow, sunken cheeks arose,
Enduring scars of age retreated,
Cracked alabaster creases 'came porcelain,
Drooped lips entersed,
Placqued teeth bared,
Nostrils filled,
Body wholed,

She smiled:

            A wife’s smile,
            A mother’s smile,
            A child’s smile.
 
The sun of life emerged, burst forth,
            The perfect, room-blinding smile,
            Hydrangea-like:
                        Blooming still