Saturday, May 18, 2013

White lights.

You walked these aisles
and stood at the check-out stand
looking ahead to
the next event
the next opportunity to
fill your cart to the brim
each time learning to maneuver
life's supermarket
with more ease and style.

Shiny lights reflecting
surfaces scrubbed clean
written orders of importance
and sequence of events
all traces of previous lives
erased every hour
on the hour.

We live private lives in public places, yet, few traces
of ourselves exist anywhere.
Except in a mother's heart where it all started.


  1. I believe Brian was always looking - up.

  2. Your expressive words here, Rosaria, brought back loving and intimate memories of my own mother.......and her love for me. Thank you.....

  3. A mother's heart - what a silent treasure trove of uncountable memories of deeply felt precious little moments, of joys, aches, hugs and tears, of first steps and trials, of encouragement and held breath, of discoveries and growth, of protectivenes, pride, softness and wonder, of letting go, love and pain.

  4. Very compelling. I can't believe that such a thing has happened. My heart is with you, as a father.

  5. It's so true. Supermarkets are so impersonal and yet so many individual traces are left behind beyond its automatic doors.

    Greetings from London.