is not in the world any more
had a generous, woman-shaped body
laughed warm and rich, with a witchy cackle
fully uproarious or huskily intimate
wise defender of women, knew also that men
can be in need of acceptance and comfort
became my friend and ally at our very first meeting, and
stayed that way the next three decades and more until she
left this life with grace, dignity, strength and courage,
on her own terms, attending her own living wake,
helping design her own coffin and shroud
gave me a talented, original god-daughter –
who, with her for a mother
needed no extra sustenance or joy
shared with me Reiki, Tarot and witchcraft; though
we arrived by different roads, our paths aligned
shared with me dreams and plans – hers and mine –
and loves and griefs and setbacks and adventures
told me decades before it happened: ‘Yes, Rosemary,
you too will dance and sing for the Goddess’
stayed connected over distance and time
was a tall tree in my life, which, dead, still towers
(Photo © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2019)
Written for Poets and Storytellers United, for my own prompt: A Dead Tree, at Friday Writings #228.
