Mother By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
My mother used to hold me,
Gently, warmly, and she would tell me that
I was full of universes, that
I was full of
Impossible and
Wondrous
Love.
(I never believed her.
Never.)
As I grew older,
Life learned to kick me hard, although I
Never kicked back,
Not until my mother,
Graying but not yet gone, grabbed
Me by my shoulders and shook me until
Hair began to unfurl from my braids,
And she would declare that the
World was my oyster, and I was its
Pearl.
Sometimes life would kick me
So hard I couldn't bring myself to stand back
Up again, but my
Mother was always there, always offering me
Her hand, and I would feel her
Shake as I stood up,
Crumbling in her own
Strength and
Unwavering in her own
Might.
She will never show
(And never has shown)
Her weaknesses,
For she is a
Raging hurricane, a fire that has
Never met water,
Yet she is falling into the cave of her
Own aging self, of her
Own internal darkness,
And it is my turn-
My turn!-
To offer her a gentle hand.
When she stands up, she is not
Tall and mighty like she once was,
For she is smaller,
And her eyes are sadder,
And life has kicked her,
And life has knocked her down,
And I have pulled her up
Like she did so many times for me,
But she is a lost star in a
Galaxy of moons,
Vicious because she is afraid.
My mother yells and
Screams and
My mother is beautiful and
Kind and
My mother is desperate because
She gave me her blood and her bones
And now she is withering,
Falling,
Crumpling,
Yet I am
Living,
Living,
And I know that I am filled with
Impossible and
Wondrous
Love.
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