Poetry

Mother, Edith, at 98

by

Michael Johnson

In a nursing home
blinded with
macular degeneration.
I come to you,
blurred eyes, crystal mind,
countenance of grace.
as yesterday's winds
I have consumed you
and taken you away.
"Where did God disappear to?"
You murmured
over and over again
like running water
or low voices
in prayer:
"Oh, there He is,
angel of the coming."

Book Release : He is the author of: The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom.
http://www.iuniverse.com/bookstore/book_detail.asp?isbn=0-595-46091-7. .
The book is also listed at Amazon.com, & Barnes & Noble. Book
review: http://www.compulsivereader.com/html/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1777