What is
I meant to write about death
about missing you
and about the
light that comes from the dark
but all I have is
this golden light through
the open door
on a cool morning
the little birds singing in
the bare tree outside
how welcome
their song is
and
the sound of my own
breath
Today is my mother's birthday.
about missing you
and about the
light that comes from the dark
but all I have is
this golden light through
the open door
on a cool morning
the little birds singing in
the bare tree outside
how welcome
their song is
and
the sound of my own
breath
Today is my mother's birthday.
posted by MB at 9:34 AM
27 Comments:
I've teared up at this one .... no words. Thank you for sharing this with us.
and in writing about the light, you honor the life of your loved one. thanks so much! this touches my heart.
beautiful!
mb, i'm so sorry for your loss. what a beautiful tribute to your mom, to your feelings. its a good reminder for me to be grateful. we share something in common: my mom's birthday is in march too (10th).
What a nice celebration of her. Light, open door, song, breath = life = light that comes from (after) the dark.
The poignancy of this poem says all the sadness and how life goes on even with the sadness of loss and it nearly broke my heart to read even though it is full of wisdom and acceptance and light. She must have been an extraordinarily beautiful woman to have such a daughter.
I felt my Aunt Evelyn beaming at me through this one. Where there was once so much pain, now there is a lightness that cheers me.
Oh...how wonderful azulejo. She must be so proud of you. I know you are aware of my recent loss; so you know of my empathy for you; as so many others others have shown as well.
Luz...ah...luz. Siempre, hay ligero!
Esto siempre será el día que su madre nacía. Un Cumpleaños, para siempre.
azulejo, perdóneme. Eso no debe ser "ligero" que lo debe ser "luz." Pero. . Pienso que usted sabe eso.
Oh! So sad. But yes, always the light.
I'm so sorry for your loss MB, but am grateful (as I'm sure she is) for this beautiful tribute to your mother. Always the light, the sound of your own breath. She's in it all, as are you. Sending love!! xoxo
So beautiful, MB. Those first four lines sum up everything I have felt since the day my father died. You honor your mother's memory so beautifully with these words.
oh, mb...this is stunning.
You buoy me up with your words of support and empathy. I give heartfelt thanks for a community so generous. If my words have somehow given some thing to you, then I feel I have accomplished something -- part of the light that comes from the dark. It never ceases to startle me how deep grief can be; even after ten years, still it comes in waves. But it is not the same grief that was ten years ago, not by any means. It has been tempered by time and growth and much love. And community. I am touched that you understood this poem, which seems so strange as I read it now, and yet which I understand so well at the same time. I suppose that is the nature of poetry, to say things that cannot be said by ordinary means. Yes, my mother was an extraordinary woman and she is sorely missed. Yet I have become accustomed to her absence, thanks to the light and love I feel ... much of it from friends like you. Thank you. Every one. Siempre la luz, siempre el amor, siempre un cumpleanos. Siempre mi gratitud.
How do you leave tears as a comment?
Your gift is amazing!
alan
A really beautiful poem. Thank you so much for sharing.
Oh. No words, but lots of feelings.
love conquers all, love is stron gin your poem
Alan, cgp, Jean and tica... thank you for your responses and for coming by.
Happy birthday, mother of Nature Child, Nature Poet, and Spirit Woman.
This is a beautiful tribute I hope it brought with it healing
Mermaid, I appreciate that wish very much.
Sue, it has and does, for me and others. Thank you.
MB,
Such an excellent first line! Also, interestingly apropos to what we were talking about...the poems we mean to write, as opposed to the ones we actually do.
Firehawk, thanks. Yes, as I've said before, there's no accounting for the twists and turns of the warrens the mind may follow to find a poem. This wasn't the poem I expected to write.
how very lovely. as always, mb, you turn things around ion the palm of my hand so the light falls differently and I see them anew. Thank you.
Thank you for telling me that, Ruth.
A zen poem if I ever saw one.
Post a Comment
<< Home