Monday, May 5, 2014

Poetry Monday: Poetry for Mother's Day (freebie)

This Mother's Day will be bittersweet for me.  Sweet, because I have three wonderful children and a terrific husband who will be celebrating the day with me.  Bitter, because it's the first Mother's Day ever where I am unable to phone my mother, send her a gift, or thank her for being wonderful.  I will, of course, spend the day, as I have done every day since she passed away on the 30th of January this year, thinking about her, missing her, and perhaps writing about her.

At my mother's memorial, I grabbed a copy of the poetry book Carolyn Howard-Johnson and I co-authored from her bookshelf, and read a poem from it about how I used to climb into her bed as a young child, and how safe it felt to me (my own children did the same when they were younger...).  I've reprinted that poem below. Of course, I'm not the only one in the world who has lost my mother.  She Wore Emerald Then was released the week of the death of Carolyn’s mother, so the book, which has always been tied to Mother's Day, has a certain poignancy for both of us.  Carolyn and I are going to be running another freebie this year at Amazon.  If you don't already have a copy of She Wore Emerald Then, which features beautiful photography from May Lattanzio, please go and grab a copy for free here:  anytime from the 5th to the 9th of May (US dates).

If you're a mother, or if you have a mother (and that's all of us, even those of us whose mother is no longer alive), please have a happy Mother's Day, even if that happiness is tinged with longing, because every beautiful moment has a kind of permanence to it, even as it disappears into the transience of time. 

Mother's Bed
In the restless night
when mortality lurks in every shadow
the blanket won’t cover your fear
and morning is a half-forgotten dream
vague and uncertain,
slink into my bed
the pillow holds a mother’s secret
whispered charm
you can sink your head into.

There are no demons here;
no whirlwind of memory and anticipation clouding sleep
only eternal warmth
a shared space
free from the ticking illusion
of time, motion, and change.

Here, where you are always welcome
nothing matters
except this peace
this place
containing every possible now.

1 comment:

  1. Maggie, I'm normally not a poetry reader (Fiction is my game). I love the poem, especially since it is Mother's Day. I love the phrase "the blanket won't cover your fear". I know in my heart that a Mother's love will. Thank you for the poem..J.E. Thompson: