Silent, Like Sleep
Within the depths of my dreams lies the comfort
found in my mother’s arms, the same offered
in return, no words needed, when she was in need
in the last years of her life. While no soul is
ever truly silent, hers was gentle to the end,
and so she appears in my dreams.
The short poem is my response to Twiglet #227 from Misky, which offers this line as a prompt: “silent, like sleep.” Unable to adequately care for herself, my mother lived with me for the last two years of her life. Although it was a difficult time, I don’t regret a moment of it.
rivrvlogr 
Lovely poem, Ken.
My mother too with me then.
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Thank you.
We do what we must.
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Yes
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Words can comfort … but also can interfere with inner peace (for speaker, for listener)
So many things I never said/asked my son in his last few weeks … we spent hours in silence together … just accepting
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I think that’s the way to remember a trying time like that. The peacefulness of a moment together.
Thank you, Jazz.
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Very moving, gets under my skin.
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Sigh.
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This is lovely, Ken.
Pat
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Thank you, Pat.
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Your words are gentle too. It’s a gift to have that relationship with a parent. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe. Sometimes, I think I could have done more, but I guess that’s a part of loss.
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Truly full of love.
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Indeed. Thank you, Jules.
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Relating to this… eloquently written, Ken.
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Thank you, Betty. Sometimes love is the only answer.
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