Such a lovely post, Mary. I've got tears in my eyes.
Mothers' Day here in UK (strictly speaking, Mothering Sunday) is always three weeks before Easter Sunday, but it's lovely to know that elsewhere in the world they celebrate it at a time when spring has sprung!
REALLY good timing - your post, I mean, not Mothers' Day! - because this week I've actually been writing a poem. It's finished - at least, I think so - but thank you so much for inspiring me further. 😊
Some times acceptance is all one can do when the parent has failed you. I was lucky to have had loving and good-hearted parents--though the illness in the household was so severe as to virtually marginalize me. I do understand those who can say nothing. Perhaps I should have added that.
Your post was / is perfect, no worries Mary. I'm sure if I write a poem to my mother on what she did - a bit of a traditional woman one day, modern woman another day, I can thank her for showing me that and also the power of resilience and strength of letting go of your native country ...
Beautiful post. I know your mother and father lovingly absorbed every word of your poem that tells all.
Kind and generous. Thank you.
Here is a poem written to me from this prompt. It is from a friend and former student with her note to me:
As you wisely wrote, it is hard to say the words that need to be said. Here’s my poem for you, sent with love and gratitude.
My Teacher Friend
Her syllabus was vast:
Point of view, sort of person, story arc
Resilience, forgiveness, generosity
Why we remember, even when it hurts
When to move on and what to take with you
How to spot the goodness, even when it doesn’t want to be found
To say things out loud before people are gone
Her gaze dares me to open a vein on the page
Her company is the give of worn seats in the E Street theater where we sat side by side
The fleck of her wrist as she makes a point —the slight bend in her ringed fingers — shows the confidence time and loss can instill if you let them
Tough as her hair is white, measured as breath through her flute, gentle as her brushstroke
Hers is a love that spans years and cities
She is the reason I know that teachers are friends and friends are teachers
Such a lovely post, Mary. I've got tears in my eyes.
Mothers' Day here in UK (strictly speaking, Mothering Sunday) is always three weeks before Easter Sunday, but it's lovely to know that elsewhere in the world they celebrate it at a time when spring has sprung!
REALLY good timing - your post, I mean, not Mothers' Day! - because this week I've actually been writing a poem. It's finished - at least, I think so - but thank you so much for inspiring me further. 😊
Oh, so lovely for you to comment here so warmly and so heartfelt. I look forward to reading your poem. You are so gifted, Rebecca.
Oh, Mary! 😊 Such kind words!
Lovely post and poem too! Discovering the good, can heal and open the pathways to forgiveness or at least acceptance.
Thank you, Mary xo
Some times acceptance is all one can do when the parent has failed you. I was lucky to have had loving and good-hearted parents--though the illness in the household was so severe as to virtually marginalize me. I do understand those who can say nothing. Perhaps I should have added that.
"Perhaps I should have added that."
Your post was / is perfect, no worries Mary. I'm sure if I write a poem to my mother on what she did - a bit of a traditional woman one day, modern woman another day, I can thank her for showing me that and also the power of resilience and strength of letting go of your native country ...
Blessings, Isabelle.