They asked for a picture of strength
and I told them
your lens will never do her justice.
Strength had
shaky hands spotted with sunburnt freckles.
Strength had
twice operated on cataract eyes
and dentures cleaned with non-abrasive toothpaste.
Strength wore
only 1940’s fashion, despised denim jeans.
Strength kept
black and white pictures in paper albums,
fresh pressed flowers and
neatly folded handwritten love letters.
Strength was
a mother,
a widower,
a terminal patient.
But Strength was always
smiling, always
soothing hands.
Green thumb, Band-Aid tongue and lullaby heart.
Strength kept on giving
and giving.
I’ve never seen her take.
Strength had ragged breath,
Strength was aging.
Strength had waning skin
But Strength was still beautiful.
Strength was and will always be beautiful.