Hair Brushing
Lights out,
visitors gone,
it’s just you and me,
no phone, no TV.
Just us girls.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
Let me grab my nail file,
trim your nails,
file them down just a bit,
nice and round,
nice and smooth.
Those little things make
such a big difference.
(We girls understand that.)
Trusting me,
letting go,
letting me
take your hand in mine--
Once,
strong, quick and
nimble…
Now,
trembling and feeble,
weathered and
weakened by pain.
Rubbing lotion in
to massage away
the strain of the day.
Those beautiful hands--
so elegant and graceful,
writing and typing stories,
covering glories and events
through the years.
Stories I could only imagine….
Those very same hands
held us as babies, helped others,
cooked, cleaned and worked us
into the family we are.
Those same hands that
wiped tears from my eyes,
picked me up when I’d fall,
hugged, raised, and loved me
into all that I am now.
Cragged, scarred and
roughened by
life’s many lessons--
their beauty not lessened but
ever beautiful still.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
I patiently sit by your side
through the night.
Watching your face,
pinched with fear,
gradually,
minute-by-minute
fall into slumber,
quivering lip slacking low,
clutching fingers letting go
of their seasoned control of
their vice grips as
worries slowly fade
into the blanket
tucked around you.
That very same face that has
always been there,
always watched over me;
now, humbly overcome by
you letting me
watch over you just this once.
That beautiful face,
once fully-and-expertly-
made-up, and perfect.
Professional.
Now, lined, aged-kissed by
years of experiences made,
grown, fully shared and given.
Every age spot so precious,
so dear, so full of living.
That beautiful face--
perfect still.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
visitors gone,
it’s just you and me,
no phone, no TV.
Just us girls.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
Let me grab my nail file,
trim your nails,
file them down just a bit,
nice and round,
nice and smooth.
Those little things make
such a big difference.
(We girls understand that.)
Trusting me,
letting go,
letting me
take your hand in mine--
Once,
strong, quick and
nimble…
Now,
trembling and feeble,
weathered and
weakened by pain.
Rubbing lotion in
to massage away
the strain of the day.
Those beautiful hands--
so elegant and graceful,
writing and typing stories,
covering glories and events
through the years.
Stories I could only imagine….
Those very same hands
held us as babies, helped others,
cooked, cleaned and worked us
into the family we are.
Those same hands that
wiped tears from my eyes,
picked me up when I’d fall,
hugged, raised, and loved me
into all that I am now.
Cragged, scarred and
roughened by
life’s many lessons--
their beauty not lessened but
ever beautiful still.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
I patiently sit by your side
through the night.
Watching your face,
pinched with fear,
gradually,
minute-by-minute
fall into slumber,
quivering lip slacking low,
clutching fingers letting go
of their seasoned control of
their vice grips as
worries slowly fade
into the blanket
tucked around you.
That very same face that has
always been there,
always watched over me;
now, humbly overcome by
you letting me
watch over you just this once.
That beautiful face,
once fully-and-expertly-
made-up, and perfect.
Professional.
Now, lined, aged-kissed by
years of experiences made,
grown, fully shared and given.
Every age spot so precious,
so dear, so full of living.
That beautiful face--
perfect still.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be here.
Let’s slick some lip balm
over those chapped lips,
shall we, to heal them,
to soothe them.
Just a little dab of color.
There. That’s better.
Beautiful lips that
mean business.
Stubborn.
Independent.
Lips worn with kisses
and smiles and strong
words of wisdom,
kissing away years of hurts,
gave advice that really works,
spoken truth (even when it hurt).
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep now.
I’ll be here.
over those chapped lips,
shall we, to heal them,
to soothe them.
Just a little dab of color.
There. That’s better.
Beautiful lips that
mean business.
Stubborn.
Independent.
Lips worn with kisses
and smiles and strong
words of wisdom,
kissing away years of hurts,
gave advice that really works,
spoken truth (even when it hurt).
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep now.
I’ll be here.
Won’t you let me
brush your hair—
you’ll feel so much better
when I’m done,
you’ll see….
Reaching for the worn
wooden handle,
I stand behind you,
fluff up your pillow,
whisper soothing words
to calm your nerves and quell
unanswered questions.
brush your hair—
you’ll feel so much better
when I’m done,
you’ll see….
Reaching for the worn
wooden handle,
I stand behind you,
fluff up your pillow,
whisper soothing words
to calm your nerves and quell
unanswered questions.
Remember when you said,
“It hurts to be beautiful”--
you cooed to me when
I was four, and you
yanked spiked curlers
from my hair
as tears streamed
down my face—
that tangled mess and memory
still reminding us how to
laugh through our tears
these many years later.
“It hurts to be beautiful”--
you cooed to me when
I was four, and you
yanked spiked curlers
from my hair
as tears streamed
down my face—
that tangled mess and memory
still reminding us how to
laugh through our tears
these many years later.
Untie your scarf and
begin to work your clip out,
unwinding your hair from its
loosened bun, softly pulling
the brush through your hair.
Beautiful hair
that means confident,
feminine,
in control.
Silky strands, now silvered and
gleaming from decades of working,
of caring, of loving us—mothering.
A bit thinner from the cares
and worries from the world,
all for the good of her family;
but, to me, that hair is
even more beautiful now.
Brush away those knots of
stress and worry; brushing
gratitude, love, and peace
with each stroke,
calming, falling into the
steady rhythm of the
I.V. drips and ticking clock,
gently rocking you
back and forth in your chair.
Did you used to
rock me to sleep like this?
Did you brush my hair
till I fell asleep in your lap?
Thoughts wander wordlessly
through the long hours.
Long, tender, thoughtful,
delicate.
Mirror dimly reflects
florescent glimmers
glistening down my cheeks.
Grateful to be needed.
To be trusted.
To be let in.
To be here.
Quietly.
Finally.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be right here when you wake…..
begin to work your clip out,
unwinding your hair from its
loosened bun, softly pulling
the brush through your hair.
Beautiful hair
that means confident,
feminine,
in control.
Silky strands, now silvered and
gleaming from decades of working,
of caring, of loving us—mothering.
A bit thinner from the cares
and worries from the world,
all for the good of her family;
but, to me, that hair is
even more beautiful now.
Brush away those knots of
stress and worry; brushing
gratitude, love, and peace
with each stroke,
calming, falling into the
steady rhythm of the
I.V. drips and ticking clock,
gently rocking you
back and forth in your chair.
Did you used to
rock me to sleep like this?
Did you brush my hair
till I fell asleep in your lap?
Thoughts wander wordlessly
through the long hours.
Long, tender, thoughtful,
delicate.
Mirror dimly reflects
florescent glimmers
glistening down my cheeks.
Grateful to be needed.
To be trusted.
To be let in.
To be here.
Quietly.
Finally.
Hush now, don’t worry--
I’m right here, and I’m staying.
It’s all right, I won’t leave you.
Get some sleep, now.
I’ll be right here when you wake…..
Eliza Jane Farley Gomez ©2010
Written By Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
Monday, October 25, 2010
Written By Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
Monday, October 25, 2010
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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!