Wednesday, May 7, 2014


Lola Ridge, 1873

Your love was like moonlight
turning harsh things to beauty,
so that little wry souls
reflecting each other obliquely
as in cracked mirrors . . .
beheld in your luminous spirit
their own reflection,
transfigured as in a shining stream,
and loved you for what they are not.

You are less an image in my mind
than a luster
I see you in gleams
pale as star-light on a gray wall . . .
evanescent as the reflection of a white swan
shimmering in broken water.
This poem most truly reflects my feelings. This will be the second Mother's Day without Mutti
but her love and grace remains with me, us.


Mother Is Gone, Hank Williams Sr.

My Mother's Eyes, George Jessel

Mama, Connie Francis

I Remember Mama, Film Trailer


Anonymous said...

A lovely post Petra!

It's taken time to find your "new normal" without Mutti. And you amaze me with your continuous output of creativity.

Love, K. :)

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Thank you, K. 2013 literally seemed hazy, if not to stand still altogether at times.

Yes, her grace and love remains with me, K. :))

Jay said...

Aww.. I know how you feel. I've just lived through my third Mother's Day without my Mum. It's tough.

I like the poem. So true.

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

I didn't know, Jay! It seems to be the time I was out of commission while my mother was on hospice than passed last January.

Please accept my deepest sympathy, Jay!

Love, Petra :))

sandyland said...

so captivating that poem

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Isn't it Sandy? It seems to reflect the kind of surrealness and ethereality I felt last year.