artwork: ralph murre
Shadows and Reflections
by Nancy Haskett
My mother’s face and
voice,
once as familiar
as my own signature
or the soothing sound
of rain,
have become mere
memories yellowed with age,
like lace and
appliques on the gown
she sewed for my
wedding,
dimmed like old
photographs
no longer vibrant with
color,
her aspects eluding me
even as
I run my fingers down
the surface
of an oil painting,
searching for the
softness of her hand
that created it.
Today, in this year
that divides
exactly
our thirty-two years
together
from thirty-two years
apart,
I look for traces of
her in my own reflection,
catching a glimpse,
sometimes,
in the gray of my
hair,
the slight swell of my
belly,
but more often seeing
shadows of my father
in the set of my jaw
the turn of my mouth,
and I worry she is
lost to me
until I find her
again,
just for a moment
in my daughter’s smile
~ first published in Penumbra
