For my Grandmother, Mabel Rutherford Tedrow 1907-1929
was an innocent child kneeling on the edge of my bed gazing out my bedroom window
at the
church cemetery below in
the yard next to ours
counting tombstones of the dead
I didn’t know that my young grandmother, Mabel fired a gun aimed to silence voices in her head in the room across the hall from mine one landing away just weeks after giving birth to her fourth child my dad, Jack
(the bang must have scared the
songbirds away)
Ghost trapped inside the walls followed me no matter how many times I moved
Calling my name Wait before you fall asleep Listen There is something I want you to know
She finally caught up to me
one solitary afternoon when the incense curled around my head while seated in my writing chair
The priests She said, in a voice the texture of French court satin They lied about suicides I was not punished on the other side
I was met with love and mercy brought to a chamber of healing a philharmonic of glorious sounds strings, woodwinds, drums played in my toes, my empty arms my broken heart
Tinctures were given bitter and sweet stems and roots from an infinite pharmacy shelved in a pink high cloud of love
When I got my memory back I could see that I wasn’t at fault My body was drained stripped of vitality from too many pregnancies too fast
I carried my babies willingly I wanted to do my duty
My reward is you my darling, Jacqueline You will touch the hem of Christ and bring hope to those who stumble You will heed the voice of angels, highest of the light
I have not abandoned you Never I am here next to you Closer than your next breath
