Mother and Daughter

How does one cross the lonely canyon;
how arid seems the lost divide.
And all the things I thought I wanted,
it seems they all are right inside.

How does one mend a heart that’s broken;
how painful is the hurt I caused,
with feelings that were panic for survival,
when riding the Tiger was without a pause. 

What gnawing grieving, deep and glowing;
what anger, disappointment, yearning;
what feeling makes my back keep turning,
on a time that wounds my soul. 

Still there is that deep and unknown calling,
and there is the nagging voice inside.
Could I still be so full of broken memories
that my silence became my pride? 

You were the one I honored, your intelligence and grace,
You had the strength I wanted, you chose the route of place.

I turned heel to run into a dream
of apple butter’s gummy delight
and the story of Blue Ridge Mountain adventures 
on the Trail of the Lonesome Pine.

Corn chips and apple juice on the car seat
an intrepid pair need fuel for joy.
I received lovely packages, perhaps a picture,
and loving words to a sensitive boy.

Her tortured soul crying out for freedom,
for gentle kindness, appreciation, light;
for a bit of warmth in that healing feeling,
of connection beyond a human sight.

She left him to be with his absent father
to watch the alchemy of the tribe.
She sensed the need for warrior deeds,
perhaps some shared undertaking he would decide
building castles, hands were ready, as were minds. 

Those broken memories, remain so clearly
so closely on my ready sleeve;
I weep at snowy mountain’s gentle kindness
and I am soothed by holding hands, it seems… 

How does one cross the lonely canyon?
How arid seems the lost divide.
And all the things I thought I wanted,
all it seems are right inside.

Chu.Chas ‘25
…to a sister.