A Poem to Our Mother
by Peter G. Engelman
Saturday, December 07, 2002
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When you became ill and lay sick in your bed,
the fear rose inside us as your fate lay ahead.
Your years as a mom to Jerry and I
were suddenly highlighted and painted up high.
Your goodness, your grace, were always so great
and now we took notice as you passed near the gate.
The Reaper came knocking that terrible time
with only our prayers to counter his crime.
We raced to your side, we called all resources,
we stayed off your doom, we held back the horses.
Your spirit was strong; it wasn't your time,
You fought the infection and the fever declined.
Two strokes you did suffer while your fever was high,
your left side was affected as we prayed to the sky.
But slowly your legs and your arms you did move,
you started to eat and your strength did improve.
We were there everyday, we hovered over your bed,
we knew you were needed, there was no one instead.
The doctors were called for each little sigh,
we knew you'd get better but often we cried.
Then one day your eyes, they opened real wide,
we knew that something good was happening inside.
You ate solid foods and some weight you did gain,
you got out of your bed and were no longer lame.
Three months have gone by and you're doing real well,
We're all so darn happy, our hearts still a'swell.
You're back from the brink, you're with us once more,
your children rejoice for their mom to adore.
Note: Mom lived another twelve months and then left us on her terms and at her time