To Alice (Mother’s Day, 1991)

 

 

 

 

 

 

My mother’s years

Fall around her like a velvet cloak

Cover her with folds of silken thread

Of gold, deep blue, of burgundy

Like the colors of cloth in a painting

By Rubens or Rembrandt

But it has a lining of woven straw

This cloak of velvet

That can scratch and tear the skin

Straw on one side, velvet on the other

The fabric of a life

The way it is, my mother says

 

And she gave me straight hair

And thin ankles

And she gave me love

She gave me the markets of Guadalajara

And Oaxaca

And she gave me the truth

Of her own self

 

One July we are very young

We eat lobster bisque together

And watch the seagulls live their lives

On the pier in Monterey

As the sun is going down

Back at the restaurant in the Monterey Hotel

The waiters are on strike

All the others from the tour bus

Cross the picket line

But, my mother says, not us

 

Now the hawks glide in the wind

Over the roof of my house

This is where my mother has never been

And I tell her how they rise up

And soar

How they dip with their wings outstretched

And sway into the currents of air

And I tell her that her years

Fall around her like a velvet cloak

And she is beautiful

Reconciliation (1975)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mother

When he went away and left you

He left me too

And we lived together

You and I

One woman     one child

And I wanted to grow up

To love you both

But you’d come home

From a job that drained you

That made you curl up tight

Inside yourself

I knocked and I know

You tried to let me in

While he went away

And sent letters of love to me

And I cried to live with him

I didn’t understand

 

My best friend told me this

People say your mother

Has a chip on her shoulder

I didn’t understand

 

Believe me Mother

When I tell you

I don’t remember

That time in your life

When you were ill

When your legs were weak

And you used a cane

When your eyes saw double

And the threat of disease

That would waste you

Hung over us

A girl of fourteen

Awake     awake     whose eyes

Could see     whose brain

Could think

But Mother I don’t remember

I just don’t remember

 

Mother

We are healed now

And the years between

Have made us friends

I need you Mother

When you die

No one else can care as much

My Untethered Horse

Beloveds

I want to tell you

A dream I had

In the darkest part

Of night

A dream so vivid

I have to believe

It was no dream

But real

 

I am riding on the back

Of an untethered horse

I too     untethered

No saddle     no stirrups

No reins

Come between us

As my hands hold to her mane

My knees pressed against

The shine of the hair

On her sides

 

Oh     I would ride free

Forever

I call to the wind

On the back of this

Untethered horse

My soul     my spirit

As free as she

Galloping on the sunlit shore

With an endless sea

Behind her

 

Then Beloveds

I wake filled with joy

Feel my spirit speak

Hear words

From my soul

Telling me

 

The untethered horse

Is my horse

She is God’s love

For me

My freedom

I can ride untethered

Free forever

 

All I must do

Is let go

Drain pools of negativity

Collected through years

Of judgmental thoughts

Judgmental words spoken aloud

Deep pain from shame

From guilt

For things that were done

Not done

Neglected     forgotten

By me

Let them pass

Through my consciousness

Like water through a sieve

 

Let go     let them go

Unto God

—September 2014