I take your hand as we prepare to cross the road.

You sigh into the safety of me, and I grip tighter

to tell you that I love you.

I kiss your forehead as you sleep

and as you breathe in, breathe out, your face free from pain in loose and dreamy folds

I straighten your books

iron your clothes

touch the tiny silver bird around my neck

(your father gave me that, you said, your eyes bright with exquisite memory, pressing it into my hand)

stack your shoes

and welcome the faintness of your scent

on your collars and scarves, and on my pillowcase.

It’s OK, I whisper, when I sense the tears are close. I’m here.

I gift you comfort, and you embrace it,

this unexpected joy making a simple kind of sense.

What peace there is in finding it.

And so we will journey in tears and joy together,

until you must go on alone.









2 thoughts on “Mother

  1. Kia Ora Patricia

    I’ve read the poem several times at least. Each time, a new visual(s) appears. I can’t say any better than that how good I think it is.

    Meanwhile, re my project — I’m now working on the final edit/re-write based on the second assessment by Mary-Jane Holmes, nearing the halfway mark. I had two major problems, as you know — point of view and lack of conflict/expectation. Yes, had I gone to a few lectures I wouldn’t have ignored them as much as I did, if at all.

    I think, hope, I am now on the right track.

    I’ll keep you posted.

    Best wishes


    1. Thank you, John. That’s great news about your manuscript. You’ve worked so hard on it, and for so long! I’m sure it is greatly improved. I look forward to helping in any way I can as you reach the end of the redrafting process.

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