Missing
Oma..
Three impactful letters forming one figure.
A figure so mighty, yet fragile but strong and allure.
When wrinkles, cracking joints, and silver hair
became one exterior imperfect transparent wear
of hard love, stern expressions, and brutally pleasant honesty.
Loveable. Hilarious.
Please don’t stop. Please be here.
Just one more string on our fishing pier.
A week would be too much luxury,
just a day… just an hour.
Let me turn back time,
and re-live one more joyous climb.
Because when you’re here, I’m not alone.
When you’re here, the bullies are blown.
When you’re here, I look forward to all the sweets you scone.
And when you’re here, you were always my backbone.
Amongst endless cilantro and telenovela episodes,
and after every wise scolding and confusing crossroads,
I still believe in unconditional love.
Perhaps I should had prayed to God, that you were an imperfect full moon,
so He wouldn’t have taken you too soon.
It reminds me of a falling star.
Or a rainbow hummingbird on a snowy autumn day.
Or that last piece of shumai on the table we all fray.
You are gone too soon.
If there is a definition of a true warrior, you are.
If there is one pure giving soul, you are.
If there is tears and laughter at one given whole, you are.
And if there is absolute honesty in every word a person could stroll, you are.
The memory we made weaving through sorrow, happiness, and life,
would never vanish as long as time is eternity,
and such eternity exists.
I hope you see how I am making my mark,
and the unknown future I yet to embark.
The shame and guilt,
You witness it all from the comfort of your worn hand-sewn quilt.
Up there, above the clouds,
in the warmth of God’s velvet blanket.
Wait for me until I fulfill my purpose into a full basket.
Then no more missing, yet to endure.
