always mother and child

2

This piece is inspired by an anonymous poem someone shared on Facebook and to which I added and subtracted to create something a little more poetic.

In the original, one phrase in particular struck me: “she is…even your first enemy.” I had a wonderful relationship with my mother. It was also not easy, which I wrote about on Mother’s Day 2012. I am my mother’s daughter: independent, strong-willed and determined. One of the gifts of Alzheimer disease was to provide me an opportunity to heal some of the scars that resulted from our rock-and-roll mother/daughter relationship. I’m grateful for that, and for the truth in the words below.

always mother and child

© 2017 punkie

Your mother is always with you.

She’s the whisper of leaves in the wind; their rustle underfoot on an autumn walk. She is the smell of cookies in the oven, the wet earth after a thundershower, summer flowers in bloom. She is incense in a sacred place, the fragrance of life itself.

She embodies the colours of the rainbow. She is the lullaby of a gentle rain rocking you to sleep. She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re sick, warm arms around you when you cry, and the smile of shared joys. She is the promise of new beginnings at sunrise and gratitude at the day’s end.

Your mother lives inside your laughter. And you in hers. She is the place you came from, your first home, your last refuge. She witnessed your first step; she is the map that guides each of the millions that follow. She is your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing can separate you: not time, not space, not even death.

She is your mother. You are her child. Always.

© 2017 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my posts widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems and posts into other blogs or social media without my permission. Thank you.

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Image copyright: jaysi / 123RF Stock Photo

2 Comments

  1. That is just a beautiful piece, Susan. There is so much truth there. I am glad you had some time to heal some of the wounds of your ‘rock & roll’ relationship. xo Diana

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