Yeah
Mothers’ Day
My
mother had a strong presence in this lifetime.
She
was smart and talented; she had special gifts and a strong belief in justice
and in an aesthetic. She was lovely and
gracious.
We
had a difficult relationship at times although I think it was more difficult
for me that for her. My emotional make
up is much more my father’s than my mother’s.
She was pragmatic. The older we
both got the closer we got, the more respect we had for each other’s
differences.
I
miss her daily.. It has almost been 11
years since she went on to the next state of being, but I still want to call
her every morning. This alone makes
Mother’s Day a little sad. But the greater
element is not having raised my own daughter, having forfeited the right to do
so, because the impenetrable belief that I could not give her what she needed
to be a healthy strong person. I look
back at that now and I wonder how wrong I was.
And no matter how much I believe things turn out the way they’re supposed
to, Mother’s Day remains deeply sad for me.
The leaves are open
what I have in front of me
are
sounds.
The
rooster is talking
to
something
maybe
a goat?
Do the neighbor’s have
a goat?
And
someone is saying
my
name, in a medium
range
bird voice.
This
yard is full of echoes
of
my name while
bubble
making, egg dying,
sharing raspberries.
That
glorious sound of laughter,
The
light rhythm of children’s’ talk.
I
will treasure those memories
always. The children
gone,
one to a different plane,
the
others off to college and
adult lives.
Now
the chatter of the backyard;
birds
take up this space
filled
with new green.
I’ll
treasure both
secretly
missing the young.
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