Last Touch

I remember my mother dying
as she called out from her bed.
I ran so fast to hold her. . .
tiny hands that touched her head.

My stepfather quickly grabbed me. . .
I was not allowed to stay.
And when I cried out to her,
he yelled, “No, just keep away!”

Little else would I remember. . .
Maybe sirens, maybe tears;
How I've tried to piece together
these past thirty-five years.

I stood before her coffin. . .
saw carnations all around,
and when I reached out to her. . .
no response I found.

My first love, I remember. . .
In high school, fifteen years old.
He put his ring onto my finger
and I felt my heart turn cold.

I pulled it off in anger
for his love could not have stayed.
And when I threw it at him,
I yelled, “No, just keep away!”

It's hard for me to trust in love,
for beauty never lasts.
Nor forgiveness for the man
that took her last touch from my past.

So if you offer to me,
something I don’t understand. . .
A heart that loves forever
or the taking of your hand. . .

Look straight into my eyes
and you will surely hear me say,
"I do not mean to hurt you,
but please. . . .just keep away."

© Cheryl Taul
February 7, 1996

Midi "I Believe" Written by Norma Stephenson and Guy Pothin
at Songs Of Praise
http://songsofpraise.org/index.htm