Today, I went for a walk imagining my mum thinking about her mum.
She knows well she hasn't grown
to be owned
She doesn't crave to belong
And so
She walks
She walks to the edge of the world
to watch the sun
gently
touching the lake
She dances with the wind
above her
behind her
about her
She is the only witness to
the drop of sorrowed sounds
the fall of jewelled lacrima of the clouds
hitting the ground
The flat, expressionless sky
teaches her that
'More than half the stars
in the universe
are orphan-stars (...).
And they give off more light than
all the constellation stars.'
And she walks to the end of the Road to You, Mother,
with joy.
In the last stanza, I quoted John Berger, of course, who - I think - is now in heaven, so the sky makes sense to me and his words are taken from his essay Impertinence.