For We Write Poems prompt: Wake Up Call
About The Dead Woman and Waking Up
The dead woman felt something move.
She didn’t know what the something was, only knew she felt it move.
The dead woman was still, had been still for years, still for far too long.
Just there, like waiting, she supposed.
The dead woman remembered all the waiting.
Waiting to go to school, to grow up, to attend her own wedding.
Then waiting for the first child, and for that child to go to school.
The dead woman remembers waiting for all of her children to grow up.
Waiting for them to get married, then waiting for the grandchildren.
She remembers waiting for retirement, then waiting in the doctor’s office.
The dead woman remembers waiting for death.
More About The Dead Woman and Waking Up
The dead woman wonders if she has waited too long.
She has waited for dawn, but doesn’t remember seeing such a thing, too busy making breakfast,
getting everyone else ready to go, to be on their way to somewhere else.
She knows she has waited for sunrise to give her its blessing, to tell her to rise, to fill her day
with her own creation, to tell her story, paint her portrait, weave her tapestry, sculpt her soul.
The dead woman knows she is dead, but that death is also waiting.
She knows she has unfinished business, things waiting for completion.
She knows she has done what was expected, always waiting to fill the next expectation.
The dead woman knows there is a second chance, one that can not be wasted.
She concentrates on moving: first one finger, then another.
Feels herself rising and knows she will sing the sun into being.
She is ready, now. There will be no more waiting.
The dead woman is awake.
Elizabeth Crawford 1/25/11