You look so hunched and frail,
yet you have the strength
to push a hundred.
You thought I was lost—
never met me
beyond my mother’s belly—
but when I found all of you so many years later,
Your eyes danced love and sparkled recognition.
You were the link to all my good.
When they wouldn’t have understood,
you took us in.
Your kindness imprinted me for the rest of my life.
Your influence was stronger
than the word illegitimate.
“You’re the most generous woman I know,”
my husband tells me.
No wonder.
Look at where I come from
how you welcomed me
and taught me
in utero
when I was still forming
to have an open heart.
Now we sit vigil while you make up your mind
to stay or to go—to cross worlds.
You’re an elf, but also an old Hungarian plough woman
muttering rosary prayers as she cuts through
the thickness of earth with all her might.
You are most God-fearing, but also the most God-loving,
woman I have ever known.
You blend fragile spirit with stubborn strength:
the kind it takes to push earth in its many forms,
and to keep on keeping on,
as we will keep on loving you,
pushing earth like you taught us well
with total generosity of spirit.
© 1999 - 2011 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com
~~~
Photo Credit: © Oksana Belodarova | Dreamstime.com
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