We brought water from the Gulf

that came there from the ocean

that met with other oceans

that slipped up on distant shores

and snatched a grain of sand

to deposit at our feet.

We live on separate islands

and the sea is where we meet.

To connect with one another

all we need do is touch the water.

Written September 5, 2008, for a Water Communion, the annual in-gathering observed by many Unitarian Universalist congregations.

In 2011 I wrote a poem for my mom. I thought I would begin with that since begin I must. Mamma died of Alzheimer’s on September 30, 2011.

When She Calls My Name
Keitha Whitaker
January 22, 2011

Our lives are tangled up inside;
My sister’s, my brother’s and mine.
Flecks of smiles;
Flashes of light;
Glimmers of days gone by.

She looks at me
And I hope I see
Some sign of recognition.
She tries to speak but words aren’t there
And effort does not bring them.

One thought now stays with me:
We are more than our memories.
She loved me long before I knew her
And I hear it in my heart
When she calls my name.