FINELLA
Coal black hair,
cat green eyes,
and a look that could
put you through the floor,
this was Finella,
this was my mother.
Intelligent, warm,
she reminisced about India,
tigers, servants and love,
mostly about love.
Vivacious, captivating,
but frighteningly complicated
at times even scary
as she battled with demons
that incited great rages.
She dealt with officialdom
like it wasn’t there,
no one questioned her,
ever,
it simply never happened
yet she never raised her voice,
simply an eyebrow that had
pedantic bullies shaking in their shoes.
Words were her weapon, her manipulating tool,
spoken or written with great panache.
Her flamboyant writing mirrored her image,
in an almost uncanny way,
as she dreamed her unfulfilled dream.
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