Because we all want to write more poems.
mom's birthday
on the phone with mom,
she reminds me gently
that she's hoping dad will take her out
this weekend ... and I remember.
"oh, that's right, you've got
a little birthday coming up"
"it's a big birthday" she says,
"they're piling up" and I quickly
do the math, realize in a few
more years, we'll celebrate
her 80th, kenahora.
it seems impossible --
when I see her in my mind's eye,
she is always young and beautiful
the way she was when I was
a little girl and even an adult myself:
always carrying herself elegantly,
always understated, her strongest emotion
bemusement, her most forceful reprove
knitted brows, a cautioning look.
how did she do it? how did she keep
three kids in line with only facial expressions?
I can cajole, threaten consequences,
try to persuade my son until I'm blue in the face
and it doesn't have the effect on him
that one raised eyebrow from her
could have on me at that age.
my friends who were spanked
were an object of pity to me,
time-outs and groundings
the strange habits of a foreign country.
I would return from visiting
my friends -- the one whose father
was a Navy man, stern and forceful,
who would yell and raise his hand
in threat when she didn't instantly obey;
the one whose parents seemed
bewildered and checked-out,
intellectuals, hands off, live and let live,
yet somehow not caring enough
to protect her from her older brothers --
and I would be so grateful,
like a traveller returning
who kisses the ground of home.
this weekend I will celebrate
with everything I've got
the birthday of the woman who birthed me,
who raised me up and gave me all the
confidence and kindness she had in her.
I hope that I can express to her
the admiration I feel
and the hope that lies behind
my pushiness about
doctor appointments,
exercise classes,
taking her meds.
the hope, and the need
to have my mother near me
even now.
especially now.
- Jennifer Dixey's Shared Poems
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Comments
Clayton Medeiros
February 16, 2012
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My mother died last year. I
My mother died last year. I did an issue of No Regrets about her. She would have liked your poem and I enjoyed it as well for, among other things, its emotionally descriptive transparency.
Neil McKay
February 16, 2012
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This is a great poem of
This is a great poem of gratitude and love and admiration. Also, I had to look up kenahora and got into a site that explained it nicely. And I'm going to visit my mom on Friday, kenahora. (did I use it right?)
Jennifer Dixey
February 17, 2012
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kenahora
Clayton, my condolences. Neil, you can use kenahora with my blessing, in good health. Kenahora. :)