The Blessings of My Mother
The image of my mother,
The folds of skin
That crease her face and hands
In the twilight of her years
Bring me to treasure more
Each day we spend
In living together,
In being together.
So much of life to share,
A bond so precious;
Not a day goes by
Without I am thankful
That I still have a mother
Who folds her hands
At twilight to whisper
Quiet prayers that I know
Are heard by a God
Who cares for her and me.
She is an inspiration
For every day I spend
Trying to make meaning
Out of life’s myriad
Experiences that sometimes
Seem less than meaningful
Because my perspective
Is not wise enough
To reach the depths
Contained in the mundane.
My mother is a person
Who enfolds me in her love
Using her gentle hands
To ease the passage of my days
So that I can celebrate my life
Even at twilight
When the shadows haunt me
And cause me to doubt my meaning.
Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
© October 13, 2007
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