All my life

I’ve collected mothers

like charms on a bracelet

each charm weighing

heavy on my wrist,

secretly hoping

the pull of the charms

would help me to

feel my ground.

Each day I

would carefully

scan my horizon

looking for another

more luminous

than the last

searching for a glimmer

of my past

that never was

and never would be.

I felt her before I saw her

walking down my street

late last Tuesday,

her  aura shimmering with grace.

I brushed up against her body

almost casually

wanting to experience

the soft touch of her hand

on my shoulder as I

breathed her warmth

into my frozen core.

“I am so sorry”  I say.

(I will lie prostrate in the gutter for you)

“It’s all right my dear” she says.

(She has no subtext)

My real life

mother is the antithesis

of yielding

all hard lines and planes

no give there –

The absence of

soft space

has left me

Always as cold

As ice

And just as


This morning I woke up


to witness the sunlight

dancing through my

heart- shaped mobile

that hangs above

my window.

The moment lengthened – as

a thought leapt through my mind

trilling like a tiny hopeful songbird.

Now is the time

(trilled the birdie)

to warm myself out

of my frozen stupor,

leaving my charmed

bracelet of mother’s behind.

I shall tuck it safely

into my indigo velvet pouch

along with a clay paw print

of my dog Gucci’s paw.

For I do believe

that I can indeed

someday –

embody the mother

I have been searching