Sunday, 3 April 2011

For My Mother

Today is Mothering Sunday, so here's a small poetic tribute to my own mum. 


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,
trudging before,
became my beacon and my hope.


Katherine Langrish said...

That's so lovely, Lucy. (And is your mother, as mine is, a gardener?)

I hope she and you had a great day.

catdownunder said...

Am I allowed to be a tiny bit jealous? You obviously have an entire constellation of love for her.

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