Ma’am

I remember the first time I met her
At the orphanage.
I was a lifer.
Who adopts fourteen
year old boys?
Apparently no one.

She was beautiful
and had the most angelic face.
Oh! her smile,
it was like sunshine.
Unsure of how to address a Nun
I always  called her Ma’am.
She did not seem to mind

I think that was when I realized
she was the only friend I had.
What I did not know was
I was falling in love with her.
That confusing rite of passage
from Boyhood to Manhood.

I have never seen
as much kindness
before or since.
It flowed from her.

She stopped me
from running away again,
and taught me
how to read books
great books
by important authors.

To learn poetry
and to talk about
its meaning.
At this point I knew I loved her.
She took me to the mission where
the homeless lived and we served
in the free kitchen.
I would have followed her anywhere.

She was relocated
after a couple of years.
To a mission in Africa.
I was desolate
Begging to go with her.
I even asked her to marry me.
She smiled and  said
if she was free
she would marry me
in a heartbeat.

But explained gently
to my young heart
that she was already
married to her faith.
Showing me her gold ring.

She died a few years later
her letters stopped coming
It was a bout of malaria.

Now when I feel alone or sad.
I open an old shoe box.
And read her stacks of letters.

one by one.
Always in the order
that she sent them.
And as usual
I feel warm and safe again.