Mommy, she says,
her face still warm in candlelight,
why did you start to cry—
and I hear not just curiosity
but the itchy vest of embarrassment.
I don’t tell her
the math of the world
is just too sad,
perhaps I cry more
because for a moment I believe
the words I tell her—
it’s going to be okay.
I was at the candlelight vigil last night and was DEEPLY touched by what you said in the beginning about darkness and light. I would like to have it to reflect back on. Is it possible to have a copy of your words? Thanks very much for being there and saying so eloquently what many of us were feeling.
I stood behind your daughter in the gazebo and witnessed you kneeling beside her and talking to her during the vigil. I wondered then what her questions were as she pulled at the wax that was hardening on the wooden plank beneath where she sat.
“…the itchy vest of embarrassment.” How I love that image. And also, “…the math of the world/is just too sad…”
Wasn’t it just three years ago that she asked if you ever cried; and you wondered how she’d missed your doing so?
Thanks, Eduardo, for the memory I had forgotten, but you are right. I think she¹s seen me cry a LOT since then 🙂
Watch my TEDx talk The Art of Changing Metaphors: TEDX Rosemerry Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer 970-729-1838 wordwoman.com
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Sunday, January 22, 2017 at 8:25 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “At the Candlelight Vigil”
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