Thursday, January 8, 2015


 
MOTHER
 
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.
 
...you are missed
 
 
 
 
 

My Mother's Eyes, George Jessel


The Sweetest Gift, A Mother's Smile, The Judds


6 comments:

Anonymous said...

I remember how hard it'd been for you the first year after her passing.

Easier Petra?

Hugs. K.

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

I was a basket case, K. But much much better. Having to focus on my father had much to do with that.

But thank you so for your hugs and concern, K.

Love, Petra :))

Anonymous said...

So glad to hear.

When I lost my sister, I was a wreck. But thanks for the love and support of my friends and family, it got easier. With time.

K. :)

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

You're right, K. With time it does get easier but miss her very much.

Thank you. :))



Ron said...

Oh Petra, this post is so beautiful! And your eloquent and touching words made me teary-eyed...

"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."

Gorgeous!

You know, this post made me think of my own mother and how much I can feel her around me. I felt her a lot through the holidays, which is why I was feeling so melancholy. I think when we lose a parent, the grieving comes in stages, little by little, slowing being replaced by the memories that begin to comfort us.

Thank you for sharing this post, dear friend.

(((((((((( You ))))))))))

Beautiful photograph of you mother!
X



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

Thank you, Ron!

I wholeheartedly agree, how grief does have those stages to get through. As you say, "little by little."

My mother was 16 in that photograph, Ron. Isn't she gorgeous? And looks far older than 16. But I've loved how women dressed then. Their hair far more glamorous, and their dresses, stylish. I remember the post of your younger mother, and thinking how glamorous she was. A definite sign of the times, wasn't it? :))