She Wishes For Things

She wishes for things like candy and youth, 
for the dog to stop barking,
and her body,
the way it felt when she was almost 20,
she runs her hands down, along her thighs,
and she remembers,
and she wishes for her eyes
to shine brighter,
to light up the world,
the way they used to, 
the way they were, 
before so many years tumbled in.


And she wishes for certain words
to have never been said,
the nasty, angry words
that left her mouth so often,
if she could stuff them back in,
she would.

And she wishes for a little less longing
for the things other
than what she is doing,
than what she has now,
these days, in these present moments,
so that moments, 
and things, 
like these,
are savored
in a way that is real,
and felt,
and remembered,
fondly,
instead of vaguely,
for they fly by,
these moments, 
so quickly,
these things,
 that need to be held.

And when she wishes for things
she wishes for time,
always more time,
and more of the laughter,
the kind
that brings tears,
and can't be contained,
so sweetly, gleefully painful,
it makes her face hurt,
and her belly ache,
sore with delight.

And she wishes to mother
her babies again,
so delicious they were, 
and their scent, 
the way they smelled,
like innocence,
with her cheek up against,
their silky, smooth cheeks
so to breathe them in,
to feel a tiny, flailing fist 
against her skin,
and little eyes looking up,
to feel them pulling the love
right out of her
drop by precious drop.

And she wishes for others
to see her deeply,
and clearly,
to know who she is now,
to understand her journey,
and to recognize 
themselves 
inside 
the courage 
required 
to venture down
the path 
of splattered words, 
all the words in the universe, 
that need to be written and read.

When she wishes for things
she mostly wishes
for peace,
but, don't we all?
If you don't, you should.

And she wishes 
with bittersweet longing 
to have taken the plunge 
into the soothing waters 
of her own life sooner, 
so much she would change 
if she could swim 
through those wasted years again, 
she would. 

And when she wishes for things,
she wishes the way a woman does,
her earnest thoughts flooding, 
cascading, 
with honesty,
and with all her might,
her wishes are memories and prayers
gently bouncing,
from wall to wall,
in the night.

And then she lets them go, 
those wishes, 
those prayers, 
with one final call,
with a heavier breath, 
she lets go of them all,
and it allows her to fall,
swiftly
and
softly
and
safely
to sleep.

*Dear Lord, let her sleep the whole night through.