A cold wind chills my face
as I stand on the high ridge of the cemetery,
This, here, on the grass beneath the old oak,
This is where my heart now sleeps,
Mother, she rests here.
Across her resting place, a few steps away,
Near the line of trees is the children’s cemetery,
Mother loved the sound of children,
The laughter, the energy,
The swirl of movement,
On some days, towards the dusk of a day,
I sometimes hear the wind,
And it twinkles though the branches,
The gentle breeze sounds like a chorus
of children at play in the fields of the Beloved,
This music, and this air,
This place, and this moment,
It has a peace,
And it has Mother’s warm smile,
That was her message to me,
A smile, she would say, brings light to our world,
We have no borders,
No barriers,
No divisions or colours,
We are the lovers of humanity,
That was her message,
Mother’s Day is not about flowers,
Or about chocolates,
Or cards and perfume,
Mother’s Day means ‘Life’,
Embrace Life,
The hour is getting colder
And time is friend to no one,
Remember Life.