With Mother’s Day approaching, I’ve been thinking about my mom even more than usual. I can’t believe she flew from the world 25 years ago. To all those who still have their mother: love her, forgive her, tell her how you feel, ask her to tell you something you don’t already know about her life.
This poem first appeared in 2014, in The Wayfarer Journal of Contemplative Literature. Love you mom.
It’s a shame
I don’t have the patience to garden,
my mother being who she was,
doing what she did with sunflowers
and lemon balm.
And with me being who I am-
a fine cook responsible
for so many glowing embers,
so many bubbling broths.
The memory of her is light enough
to take with me wherever I go,
propelled by the sea breeze,
pushed along by intimate hands,
drawn down muddy roads
slashed with the watercolors
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