For my Mother

From you beauty radiates

Like no other

You cannot be real

For if planted

Would you grow?

Would lilacs spread

Across your grave

Would roses blossom

Through your face- oh what a sight that would be

You lying- beauty sprouting- but would you even lay?

Take time to rest

To exist

Is that your time to take?

Without complaining- itching for movement

Would you care to say? To stay?

For a moment tell us-

For beauty is our compass

And you have been mine

For you are my muse

Do you wish to ride on the wind’s spine?

How does your body and you within

Not break or crumble

Thin and thin?

Because you are far too perfect

To be real and not of plastic

Do you let pain fill your body

To excuse the dents of

time which puncture your

Temples and eyes

But no matter how strong

You cannot beat time- you know this

But you still try to rewind

You are not like them

Like the others

Which wish to rip their

Ripened skin out

Just to puff and gush

You are still beautiful

Whether or not you choose to excuse

The sag and grey of time and gravity’s touch

You still move freely with

The wind

I can still see- through your eyes-

A women who raises

Children and longs for an

Answer- who longs to live for a purpose

In constant search until and

When age plasters you

To finally rest

You will lie on a river

And time will pass you by

Without worry-

Finally receive a gift- not from yourself

The gift of this river to

Flow with your thoughts

And your motherhood

Which has sprung flowers

To grow from your surface

Will poison the ground-

As shamelessly as before

The light of your life

Grows and blossoms more and more

So when the beauty

That is time

Pulls you to the ground

Apologies will be due

For movement is only temporary

But beauty is made of you