Through pain and prayer I emerge
**** breath for the first time
and though I see not you, but a blur
I know you from the inside
hand held, I am walked with care
over linoleum and playground
and altar, to grow into myself,
cheek wiped. And then you let go
as all mothers must. But never leaving,
even when, ungrateful, my brittle ego
takes me far from you, pretending I can
find a space more sacred on my own
You gave me that dream.
And everything else—for you gave me life.
And although I must, trying to improve
on that is futile.
Written for Mum's 90th birthday
You always know my true heart, for it is yours and yours is mine.
