Am thinking that this might be my season for Mythology. First Lilith, now Percival. But, I had help from S.L. Corsua
http://unguarded–utterance.blogspot.com/ I love that when it happens and thank her for continuing inspiration.
Each Night
Like Percival,
Pure Fool,
reaching to slap
button to silence
alarm that might
awaken
those who drift
in wheelchairs
through these halls.
One, sitting slumped,
raises her hand slowly
when she recognizes
armor that I wear.
Slide my hand
across hers, say, “Hi,”
while smiling softly
because it startles her,
this skin on skin
reality,
bewildered eyes
stare up into my own
confusion.
Know myself to be
no more than
intrusion,
crossing threshold
of Mother’s temporary
prison cell,
small world
where she rests,
dozing while she
waits for long-gone
strength that will open
door to home again.
Watch her pick at,
reject most
of whatever food
is set before her,
she asks again,
names, ages,
of my grandchildren,
or my children,
her grandchildren.
Sighs, as she says,
“I can’t believe
I could be
this way.”
Help her choose
a nightgown,
pink or blue,
then tuck her in,
smoothing sheet
and blanket over
now sunken chest.
Whisper, “I love you,”
kiss almost transparent
skin of cheek,
or white, wispy-haired
brow.
Once again, encounter
that one sitting slumped,
crosswise to my path,
who lifts her hand
seeking perhaps,
the Grail she falsely
believes is buried
beneath fragile skin
of palm crossing
her own,
as I remind myself
to slap silent
alarm bell
that might awaken
angels.
Elizabeth Crawford 4/24/10
Soul's Music 
This conveys an enduring love for one’s mother. Which reminds me, Mother’s Day is less than two weeks away (May 9, Sunday). 🙂 Your poem brings out the daughter or the son in all of us.
“Know myself to be / no more than / intrusion”
To persevere despite that… is devotion. Admirable beyond words. Oh, this reminds me of a news item a friend of mine emailed me. Here’s the link:
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2010-03/10/content_9563882.htm
The article is entitled “Fueled by Filial Piety.”
Cheers.
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Sorry for the delay in a response to this comment. As you know, we have been a bit busy with other things for the last few weeks. I didn’t always feel like an intrusion, but when I wrote this, that was the word that came to mind. There were nights when she awaited my arrival with eagerness because it heralded a time of soft laughter, teasing, and the tucking in ritual she cherished and told me she had trained both of my sisters to partake in. She had a wicked little grin she used at such moments.
You know where the inspiration came from and I can only thank you for it. Percival and his long endured struggle and hope is a favorite of mine. I have written another piece about the other side of that ritual, and will probably post that as well. I love blogging and how it cuts out the middleman, the editor and publisher, who may be having a hard day of their own while reading submissions. This is so much more direct and satisfying.
And given your support and ongoing encouragement, your kindness and generosity, I just might continue.
Thank you S.L.,
Elizabeth
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