Praying Under White Oleander Skies Poem by Marcia Schechinger

Wind blows through the screen
as breakfast cools by her bed
I touch her shoulder
she's lifeless

Alone again you and I mother,
you must awake
so few summers left

Can you sit with me and we
will trace our moments
on yellowed paper

I clutch her wrist
she remains in dreams
eyes sealed weary with age

Awake mother
the racing in my heart
needs the ritual prayers of old

Shall we say a 'Hail Mary'
together

I lift her to sit
she gazes without smile
but obediently eats
eyes open weary with age

The wind blows
and I and memories
whisper our prayer alone
under white oleander skies