Wednesday, March 7, 2018

In the Blue Restless Night


                                           In the blue restless night
                                                                  praying for still waters
            
                                           my mother comes to me 
                                                            from a place I catch only a glimpse of                                                                                  
                                           In a glass I recognize from childhood
                                                                               she offers me a drink




Image: "Midnight Lullaby," Henrik Simonsen

12 comments:

  1. The eternal stability of a mother's love...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sometimes mothers can quench a thirst. :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Dear Teresa, I don't know what happened to my reader-list but it's been some time since I saw your lovely smile there. I've checked and am still on your follower list, but have now also put you on my sidebar to make sure.

    As to mothers: I am quite moved by your poem. It's been 17 years since I dropped by my mother's house on way home from work and saw her morning newspaper still rolled up in the driveway. Alarmed, I used my key and entered. She still visits my dreams --full of humor and life, still asking if I'm happy. As I say, I am deeply moved by your excellent poem.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi George. Good to see you. I have been absent from this place for a while. It's hard to write poems when the world feels so akilter. But, this "dream" came to me recently, followed by the poem while still on the edge of sleep. It felt so odd seeing that glass, a glass I hadn't even thought of since childhood, but immediately recognized.

      I'm so sorry you had to experience the passing of your mother in that way, but it also seems like something she probably would have preferred over other possibilities. Thank you for telling me that .... it's good to share our stories.

      Delete
  4. Dear Teresa, how often my mother has come to me since she died back in May 1968. In dreams and in the stillness of my mind as I rest contented at the rise of sun or the coming of night. Thank you for sharing your mother with us. And yourself. Peace.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for commenting, Dee. Those seem to be the times she comes to me, as well. And peace to you.

      Delete
  5. Teresa, after reading comments --yes, mine too-- I realize you have done something exceptional here. Brava.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Geo. for revisiting this. I'm not sure about exceptional, but very often I write something and it's later that I see other layers emerge. They are always the poems that arrive, unbidden, an offering from the Universe. :)

      Delete
  6. These words will resonate with many. Humans have common shared experiences. To be able to communicate this with so few words is a remarkable talent.

    ReplyDelete

When leaving a comment, Blogger requires you "Select a Profile." Please do so, or your comment will disappear into the ether...