I haven’t really been meditating.
Or changing much about my exercise.
Or journaling much at all.
But tonight I came home from work and saw my nose in the mirror.
And it looked a lot like my Mother’s.
My nose is something I don’t know;
Can’t describe it; its shape is a mystery to me.
I know how to pose so it looks really cute; but caught off guard, I won’t recognize me.
And I’ve always thought it’s sharklike from some angles.
I thought about a nose job. To maybe make it more like Mom’s –
And why? Well… I still can’t see me.
And then I watched some stupid shows,
And did some laundry, then Lord knows,
All I wanted was a fucking beer
And time and space; for my mind to be clear.
But
Lord knows;
None of that happened.
And then I saw my Mother in some far away place;
Romania and photos,
Lecture halls and campus walls.
Puppies in Texas and grout and tiles.
In Boston, pregnant: maybe she wondered how she got there?
I can’t assume.
I only know in just 5 years,
I’ll be where she was with me,
And how was she ever so ready?
I don’t know if she felt she was at all,
And that’s why I love her most of all,
Because she was; one hundred times and more,
And more, or more.
She’s finally sort of a peer;
A Mother is easy to Love and Fear,
And when you grow you see her as she really is:
She’s Life, and Love, and all Above
And all Below, and all the things you think you’ll never know.
I threw my tantrums and burned my path,
And always I’ll keep coming back,
Because she is the Strongest place,
Softest heart and her family’s face.
With a mind that’s better,
With Patience and a Temper.
How could I ever be mad at my Mother?
She saw some of the World; was it enough?
She had me; I was tough – I sucked, I’m sure, I’m difficult with some parts broken.
But how can, now, I not move on? from pain?
I have a Family, I have Songs – I have Vision now,
And how could I ever be mad at my Mother again?
There is no Mad,
There’s just, “That’s fair.”
That’s Fair.
And, Always: Love.
littlestorms 