I belong to a number of book clubs and writing groups. One of those writing groups, Arizona Traditions, is a small collection of aspiring and successful authors. One such talented member is Stew Cohen, a veteran multi award journalist and veteran radio anchor and reporter.
His poem, Bring Her Home, touched my heart and reminded me how much I missed my mom.
BRING HER HOME
—By Stew Cohen
In the room where my momma stayed,
I saw her mostly every day.
I could even hear her voice so far away,
Please bring me home….bring me home today.
She’d ask me, Are you okay?
I said, Alright, I am fine today.
I don’t know why I had to lie,
But inside, each day a piece of me died.
It was only in my mind where I replied,
Where are you mom? I could see her slide.
I’m searching for you, I almost cried.
Be a crime if I couldn’t find you just one more time.
I touched her shoulder and brushed her hair.
Then looked at her with tender loving care.
I swear I saw her soul in flight,
Leaving her room, leaving my sight.
Never will my memory fail,
Of what my mom had meant to me.
The calmness of my momma,
I could truly feel and see.
I eased her through those final years
and somehow held back on generous tears
because she always found a way
to do the things mommas do day after day
Do you get enough sleep or have time to eat?
No matter how many times she had asked,
My answers were always as fresh as the last.
Yet, I just couldn’t shake free from the past.
Where are you mom? I could see her slide.
I’m searching for you, I almost cried.
Be a crime if I couldn’t find you just one more time….
Just one more time… Just one more time.
