I speak to her as though she is a roman catholic saint
“mom, save so and so; heal our good friend so and so;
help so and so through the rough times.”
Then I wait for a miracle from my saintly mother.
If it happens, I thank her.
If it doesn’t, I think “maybe she couldn’t.
She might not have enough clout.”
My mother when alive, spoke to God, and often
he would answer.
Now, she is with God.
She must be at his feet – asking, praying for those
she left behind.
Maybe, if she stood,
God would send the miracle home.© Natala Orobello