Old bedraggled
typewriter

emerging from
the tangle

of Time
& weeds

its rotted ribbon
still a defiant banner

held aloft
in the war of the years

black bleeding into red

this maker of words
creator of worlds

an angry E key
rusted into a raised fist

ready to strike
(a corroded gesture)

stilled in time
its question mark missing

my fingerprints still adhering
to some faded letters

still remembering
my mind

though grounded now
in earth & dog shit

a fallen leaf
taking the page's place.

Here at the center
of my garden

I leave you
to your fate

rusted into sculpture
or symbol

where the seasons
like ghosts

visit you
speaking only in memories

here you
now

throwing off your cloak
of snow

to encounter
yet another summer

writing now
the wind & rain

that passes
through you

singing
your dearest songs

(though hardly any hear you)

writing now
of Time

with nothing but
time

offering me
these words

like a prayer
to the dying

as I bring you back
to life

this one last
time.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/during-wind-rain-in-memory-of-my-mother-ita/