She was blind

In those long gone days of easy
before I grew hard into my boots
I would watch her stare
as she creaked and hummed in the old country rocking chair
at the warmth of the early morning sun

Sometimes her index finger slowly moved
across her lips like a metronome
as we talked about things I could not see
soft in the irish strong in the caring

Surrounded by an aroma of soda bread and sweet tea
she said seeing isn’t believing and showed me so much more

With a deep and steady gaze she stroked my stubborn head
foretold my stumbles through a troubled future
‘tis the first drink that destroys; there’s no harm in the last

Spoke about the wonder of her darkness
how the real music was between the notes
how to read beyond the pages of books
how it’s easier to halve the potato if there is love

Those times in the sun
sometimes in the candles
I didn’t understand
it was too hard for me to see

When she lay frail in a great feather bed
strong in her faith with those final breaths
I was glad she couldn’t see
the tears
slipping down my face

Charles McCauley is a Martinez resident. This poem won third place at Sunday’s Benicia Love Poetry Contest.

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