The stroke liberated my mother
as well as paralyzing half her body.
She struggled to regain herself
and tapped her head in fury,
“It doesn’t work too good anymore.”
And yet, she spoke her mind at last,
at last the clot unchained her tongue,
and I finally heard my mom’s thoughts.
Like powering a chain saw through wooden
corral rails to lay them flat and felling
posts for the second time in their lives.
Free to gallop away, stand atop a hill,
scan the grassy prairie…content
with freedom I got to experience,
wondering how her life would have been
if she had spoken her mind for 79 years
instead of the two months allotted her.
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