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.

 

~~~~~~
 

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