Poem: Good Mother

My mother with 11 of her 13 grandchildren in 1989

I’ve been thinking about my mother lately. She died at age 73 in 1997.  I was 44 years old.  I loved her, was sometimes impatient with her, often wished we could say more to each other, and still miss her very much. 

Good Mother

There were moments

Before you died

When I wanted to say it all,

Pouring out my feelings

Into a pool at your feet,

Hoping you’d dip your hands deep,

Reading the rippling

Water like tea leaves

Proffered by a psychic,

Telling all the stories,

Some happy, some sad,

Some untold, some unsaid,

But you remained the strong one,

Not reaching for the soothing relief of water,

Holding feelings close

Until the time had passed for sharing,

The night you died,

I felt your spirit rise,

The ponderous weight of human musings

No longer relevant,

I knew the goodness

Of your soul

That night,

I felt the tide rush in

Carrying our unspoken words

To a distant shore

Where healing lives

And broken hearts are mended,

Farewell, God speed. 

Good mother.