I wasn’t going to write her a Mother’s Day poem.
I wasn’t going to write her a Mother’s Day poem
and publish it on my blog.
I wasn’t going to do that,
because the idea felt dishonest
But here we are;
me doing yet another one of those things
that I said I wasn’t going to do.
My fingers fly across the keyboard
and the words pop up on the page
and the whole world knows
how much I love my mother.
This doesn’t make me feel any better.
There will never be a piece of writing
to convey a mother’s love
on a cold winter night,
when under an indifferent sky
she saved herself and her child.
There are no stanzas
that will assuage the guilt
of bad choices
and promises betrayed
on both our parts.
And God in His Heaven
knows that there is no end
to the pain
and the suffering
that this world heaps upon its best people.
How was writing this supposed to make either of us feel better?
How is it that she can still care so much?
How is it that the goodness in her
has not been ground down
under the boot heel of this oppressive world?
If pressure makes diamonds,
then she is priceless.
If diamonds are precious,
then she is the most precious person in the world.
If there were some way that words
could speak of perseverance
and share both sorrow
all at the same time
without overwhelming the senses;
then those words would be her name.
But, there are no words;
just verbal gestures.
Invaluable and imperceptible things
that make her beautiful,
A rare creature that embodies the goodness of the world,
as much as one can,
but most of all,
she just never stopped caring,
or at least trying to care,
I guess I wrote it anyway.
I hope it says what it’s supposed to.
I hope it is a flower and a card
and a reflection of how much you mean to me;
what you have given me;
that there is always something in this world
worth fighting for.
I love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
DJR – 2017