Poem #12 does not really need an introduction. Not in my wildest dreams could I have surmised that my poetry muse would visit in late Winter 2020. And by this Spring, I have already written a dozen poems in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic.
Conjuring how I could express thoughts about Mother for Mother's Day, this poem came to me unexpectedly, full of sentiment and candor. These words were familiar as they were somehow etched in the recesses of my brain from long ago. They would at times appear in my dreams. Mother appears in my dreams often enough, I am taking such sign from her that I am to set the words free.
The old photo is from my maternal grandfather's collection; thanks to him I have a few I've grown to treasure as I age. This photo is who my Mother was, is and always will be in my mind's eye. This is the beautiful woman who raised me.
|My Mother in Her Youth. ©Lu Sobredo Collection
MOTHER'S DAY LESSONS OF THE HEART
to mind about my Mother?
yearn to see and hug her; talk and walk with her.
her walk even from afar.
effortless. “Elegant presence,”
friend from college described
they reminisced in their early forties.
full of melancholy
own Mother died while she herself
Was in early
recovery from surgery, and nursing
illness. Painfully, she couldn’t
Grandmother to say goodbye.
heartbroken, unable to properly mourn;
I wept with
her. I weep for her, for them both to this day.
laughter was infectious. Her storytelling
comic, a mime and a dramatist.
entertaining when joined by her soulmate,
inseparable sidekick, my Aunt,
Who at 91
still wishes that Mother
exited to Heaven too soon.
At age 53,
that was too soon. Cruelly, too soon.
aches to this day
was taken far too soon.
her battle with the big “C,”
that tested her courage, grace
fierceness. That same fierceness to protect
loved ones or overlooked strangers
In need were
threatened or neglected.
her deathbed saying goodbye,
like a child, although in my 20s.
attempted to bargain with God,
was brutally honest to a fault.
admonished with coherence: Don’t be selfish.
mortal body can no longer handle the pain.
mission on earth is complete.
mission will be revealed in due time.
into eternal sleep
could protest. I was speechless.
as in stunned with awe
At her unadulterated
I am told
often that I look like her.
times, I sounded like her. But her
heart was unequalled.
caressed her pain close to the chest:
the heart from lost loves, broken promises,
love letters and lost poems
college sweethearts. Until her last breath
only kind words
Even for the few
that she trusted but failed her,
her and caused her inexplicable sorrow.
The theme song
from her first love, no he
father, was called No Other Love.
the torn love letters, poems,
of a beloved with a baritone voice,
guitar serenading her
Father’s. These images
And stories stayed mostly buried in Mother’s
they parted ways.
Even extended family might not know, she played
A simple arrangement of No Other Love on the piano.
The only time she ever played for me, we laughed
And cried as we sang to our hearts content.
mother-daughter moments made my head swirl,
Intoxicated by the way she recalled without regret
loves; and the eventual love that sustained her.
to mind when missing my Mother?
would never be enough.
warmth, thoughtfulness and sacrifices
showered me unconditionally are carved
Deeply, intricately and precisely in the
core of my being.
whatever disappointments caused her
To tear up or
shake her head while raising me,
watching me from Heaven,
I know she
forgives and cherishes
lessons of the heart;
life. Her love embraces me
days of my life.
©Sobredo Photo Collection
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
About the Author
Lu Sobredo is writer/publisher at Lu Travels Abroad, a blog dedicated to folks whose limitations do not hamper them from traveling. A year into early retirement her world collapsed from the diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA). Her total life changed, but she did not let RA define her. With love from family, friends and an awesome doctor, she regained some functionality--her new normal. She will have RA all her life. And she now writes about life and travel with RA. During the pandemic of 2020, she stays put and writes poetry and a first novel, a travel of sorts but in the heart and mind.