She Will Not Allow Me To Fall
I’ll do my best not to let her down.
She’s no longer here, but she will not allow me to fail, to fall into despair
When the crust will not fit perfectly, easy like flow into place like she did it.
Instead, I will listen to gentle laughter, feel quiet hands on my own
Showing me how to crimp, to repair, to make it work.
She will not allow me to fall — at least not forever. She will help me up,
Dust me off, and send me toddling on my own way so different from hers
And yet her fondest dream for me, to live conscious, connected, and sure
That simplest can be best, especially when it comes to pie.
There are those times when the dough will not form, the pieces won’t gather, and there is no repairing holes and tears that won’t make it inedible mess. There will be no judgment to paralyze hands, smother dream and ambition. Her quiet presence will set aside mishap and begin again with what I learned.
I learned quiet and gentle setting aside of what doesn’t work from her,
From her own courageous, loving example complete with wordless song
She sang under her breath when she didn’t think anyone was listening,
Baking in the wishes, the strength, the power to carry on no matter what.
