the Ides of March

i’ll never forget the day she left.
“Beware the Ides of March,” they say.

it came too soon, leaving us bereft
of mother, grandmother, friend, ally.

as now i inch toward the self-same age
as she when she left this world,

the haunting dread i did engage
has loosed it’s steely grip, unfurled

within my heart a blooming peace
or which i’ve longed for years.

it seems this milestone’s come to reach,
to meet and eat the fears.

would i survive beyond the time
she took her final breath?

or would i follow her, in rhyme
of age, to my own death?

but time, it seems, does have a way
of easing fear’s demands,

and knowing she’s now made her way
to our ancestral lands

allows a space to grow inside
to honor and to praise

the many virtues of her life,
the warrior’s trail she blazed.