Sunday, November 11, 2012

Celebration for My Mother By Wendy Rose

mother is the best comfort at baby times 


My thoughts wander
through the whys and wherefores
of your hollybranch life,
Yet wonder where it all began,
When now I see it ending.
Watch you looking somewhere else, shut down,
nibbling at your mud-foot,
Brushing the cat hairs from your lap.
I perspired in your world twenty five years
and think I could have known better
than to roll heavily on the perimeter
of ethnic pride. I deserve to die with the grace
of each question forming in my eyes
that are darker than yours, and wider.
But I couldn't share my pain with you.
There in our separate hiding rooms.
I try not to lose that tiny thread
connecting happy to sad.
So, my thoughts remain iridescent
and tender when I reach the question
I send blowing through your hair:
please believe in me.

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