Mothers Day (tomorrow in New Zealand) is always special to me. I am so proud to be a mother, and so very grateful. I wrote this poem today.
My daughter’s bedside, 3am
You are far away, somewhere mothers cannot follow.
But I am near; so near your breath is my blanket.
It won’t be long until the birds’ busy chatter
will banish solemnity, staccato notes bubbling and then bursting
into a dawn symphony.
Are you dreaming of the tiny sparrow stuck
in the supermarket yesterday
delirious with fear,
its avian heart nearly bursting
from its frantic feathers?
Or of the tenderness of the giant butcher
as he trapped it gently in the frozen foods aisle,
bypassed the check-out and sent it soaring
into a grateful sky?
Listen to your mother’s 3am lullaby:
As I slip back to sleep
your face will be the last thing I see,
your song the last thing I hear,
and your heart the last little thing
I will clutch
then set free.