deepundergroundpoetry.com
To Thank Her (no matter who hears)
There are not enough ways to
thank her, as my sisters and I
lost our mother,
though it is not she who is lost.
It has been ten days ago
as of this morning, very early,
just as the rain
showed its cold monotone.
It comes, grieving, freeing me
to rise up,
to celebrate our mother.
To shower the firmament
ev’rywhere she saw & walk’d;
I now can say
no matter who might hear:
Bless my soul, Mother,
have you taken a moment to
gaze upon yourself
in your new raiments of
restoration, in preparation
for the journey
that has awaited you?
How does it feel at last
to shuck off heavy burdens,
layer upon layer?
The pall of dementia
coveting o’er, like barnacles,
of everything
you were about & loved for.
You were being trapped
in a mollusk husk; you’d say:
”If I ever get that way,
just shoot me!”
She was a nurse
with a particular calling in
the hospital nurse’ries.
Mom was a blessing to
babies she helped bring into
the world, and loved the
babies she herself had had.
Mother, I thank you, for,
despite your many busy rolls,
all of them were never easy.
You put your growing family’s
welfare above all else.
As a mom, you were a queen.
We are the jewels in our
mother’s crown;
named after precious stones.
Always referring to us,
to anyone she’d meet, as
“My three girls”;
creating us, one at a time.
Looking down upon each,
swaddled in the
warmth of her life-giving flesh,
our fresh faces, cleaned of
filmy birth, of each feature,
fold and quivering curve.
She smiled at each
uniqueness of her feat, and
deemed,
by the tug for her milk,
first one then another,
till Lord, if she wasn’t
well pleased!
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