Cottonwood Wings

a poem for my son to read at the funeral


You might want to read this first



In the Spring, God brings forth life
Cottonwood drifts by on the wind.
We water our gardens with tears
for we have lost a dear friend.

Her kindness grew like tulips
Proud and colorful and tall
Her compassion, a vine reaching  
our lives and touching us all.

Our beloved Beverly was so
Warm-hearted, sweet, and caring
Loved her family with all her soul
Though cancer, in the end, unsparing.

A kind and quiet woman who
grew like the flowers
and paled into silence
in her last waning hours.

Her Spring was cut short,
Her candle burned low,
in God’s precious time
she knew she must go.

Though it’s hard for us
in this bountiful spring
we let go and know
God’s given her wings.


I was asked to write a poem for my son to read at his Step-mother’s funeral next week.

He is to speak at the funeral, at which time he will read the above poem, no doubt through shaky nerves (to my knowledge this will be his first “public speaking” engagement), and through a heavy wall of emotion. He is with-holding so much emotion about this whole thing.

As a mother, my heart is breaking for him. He has no memories of his life prior to her entering it. It is a terrible loss. How in the world do you honor that in a poem? Yet, this is the task I was given.

To make it simple enough for the country-folk family members to be able to appreciate, make it rhyme so it sounds to them like a poem, make it personal enough that it touches their hearts, Christian enough and reassuring enough so that they are comforted in their time of sorrow.

What an arduous task, but I wanted to do something. And this is what I do–so I hope you have enjoyed reading Cottonwood Wings. I am honored to have written it for my son. (I think it will mean a lot to him.)

(In Memoriam, Beverly Mullis; wife, mother, sister, daughter, grandmother, friend)

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Thoughts at 2:04 A.M. on Easter Morning (It’s called Grace.)

https://www.pexels.com/photo/autumn-back-light-clouds-dawn-416738/

I wanted to write something truly beautiful to wish you a happy Easter, and to honor the rising of my Savior, but nothing, nothing I could ever write could touch the magnificence of Easter morning. I feel humble.

Small. Inadequate. Undeserving.

GRATEFUL. LOVED.

Easter Morning

Oh Jesus, my knees are quite clean
this while I think on you in Gethsemane
praying hard on what you knew you must do
I know how oft I’ve forgotten to pray to you

I can’t bear to think of the violence of the cross
the thorns in your flesh, the blood that was lost
In the Philippines today, nails in bloody penance
Whipping their backs with bamboo, disturbing images

How can people rip the flesh of other human beings
and hail the God that created the whales in the sea?
Great grays that swoon and scoop plankton and sing?
Creator of eagles that laugh, carry wind on their wing?

How can a God love humans who behead, bring war?
Humans stoop to such evil, then lower still more?
Yet, Christ kneeled in Gethsemane, for all humanity
Knees in the dirt, heart to the sky, and pleaded for me?

To Creator of the worm of the earth, the soil and sky
for all races and tongues, for all things that fly
for all genders and generations, for mother earth
for every living thing to have in Him a New Birth.

God doesn’t ask that we bloody our backs or pierce our limbs
only that we remember to pray and accept and honor Him.
The cross still stands on a hill, blood-free.
Jesus was there, but he rose for me.

This Easter, I hope you know it too. From Christina here at Fiddleheads & Floss, Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate this Christian holiday. If you are not a Christian, please disregard respectfully and have a wonderful day. I appreciate all of you!