Sunday, 3 April 2011
For My Mother
Come walk with me.
Let's breach the bridge of years,
pluck each shaped stone of life
to hurl at stars
or hold as memory....
When I was small
the smell of you was safety.
The shape of your hands--
scarred with blood, bone and blessed Earth--
became my home as soon as held.
Your gallant rain-bowed figure,
became my beacon and my hope.