Sunday in Church , I prayed for an end to my sister’s suffering. The cancer and the treatments had ravaged her body. She was afraid to die and very sad. I could feel the passing would be soon.
I was already very sad as it was it was the anniversary of my oldest son’s death.
I paced from room to room. I paced around the church.
I prayed. At bedtime waves of
anxiety overwhelmed me as I lay on my bed in a fetal position.
Dreams of my parents who had gone before and my long lost son chased me through corridors of another dimension.
I woke up with a start at 3:32 for water or to relive myself.
I shuddered remembering my dreams. I prayed again for comfort for my little sister before collapsing back into fitful sleep.
When daylight filtered through the moon window above my bed, I dared look at the phone on the nightstand.
The call had come, muffled by the sound of artificial waves that rock me to sleep each night
The call I’d dreaded and expected.
My little sister was no longer wracked with pain.
Her smile returned-accompanied by Angel wings.
© Nancilynn Saylor June 2018
The scent of this morning’s
Fresh plucked Magnolia blossom
Fills the room tonight.
One of my favorites…
One I cannot explain to my own satisfaction,
Much less to another.
Tonight, I am reminded of the first time I smelled Magnolia and how the adrenaline swelled through my body while Angels infused the air.
Lemon scented paradise…
It’s different tonight . I cannot lose the lump in my throat no matter how much I swallow.
The scent of Angels this Spring will remind me of my sister who lays dying
Bravely fighting the cancer ravaging her already frail form. Tears scald my cheeks as
I lift the bloom-filled globe to inhale the smell of Heaven that awaits her.
Nancilynn Saylor 2 June 2018
Today we celebrate our son, Mike on the occasion of his 46th birthday.
He was not with us
for so many birthdays
Lost in a world where mom's and
Dads don't go
except in the nightmares
Of their minds when sleep curls up in
a cold corner of the dark room
And they can only stare silently at the
Ceiling, while the whirring fan seems
to mark the months on invisible
We joyfully celebrate his love and his gentle spirit
Thankful for his presence across the dinner table
he is in arms reach and but
a heartbeat away.
Happy birthday, sweet child o' mine!
© Nancilynn Saylor
14 December 2017
Shards of sun rise blaze
Race across the bedroom wall
Blue curtains, blue sky.
29 November 2017
It has been six weeks since my fiftieth high school reunion.
I had the pleasure of staying a day with friends in the small town of Floresville,Texas about 30 miles southeast of San Antonio.
Bonnie and I were buddies our Senior year, eating lunch together almost every day, along with Claudia, another friend. We were, all three from military families, bonding over our newness at a school, where many had known each other most of their lives.
Social media reconnected us several years ago. Facebook it is good in that respect. When Bonnie and Charlie invited me to stay at their home, reunion weekend I enthusiastically accepted.
The Sunday morning after the reunion was a stellar early autumn day. We leisurely drank coffee outside under the trees and after breakfast later, went into the picturesque country town to visit a Nursery. Looking at plants, is always a favorite pastime of mine made even more enjoyable with friends.
The quiet, small town America I visited that day was brought to its knees yesterday, as a gunman murdered over two dozen people in a little Baptist church in the next community over. Two people among those who lost their lives were the people I met at the nursery-kind, pleasant good people.
When I read the message from Bonnie this morning, letting me know this, I was reminded of how fragile life is and how interwoven our lives can be. I recalled a Buddhist parable titled Indra's Web,which I read long ago. It speaks about the interconnectedness of us all.
The universal "we" of mankind made even more clear this morning in the aftermath in a small Texas town.
© Nancilynn Saylor
6 November 2017
They did not know
when they brushed their teeth and washed their Sunday morning faces …
To join with their friends in worship
To be in a house of the Lord
As they filed into their small white
unassuming, country church
greeting each other with smiles on a bright Central Texas day
Men shaking hands
Women nodding to one
another or hugging
Maybe slipping recipes to a neighbor
before worship service was called
By the organist's opening notes.
Teenagers cast glances at their friends in other pews and innocent smiles…
No, they did not know
as they gathered together this day,
a monster lingered near.
5 November 2017
"Your hair is like mums,"
Words murmured fifty years past
Today, mums remind.
15 October 2017