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Jeanie_Baker

Mother's Day - 1990 - Poetry Group

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I wrote this to my mom a long time ago and wanted to share it with all of you. I spoke to my Mom yesterday on the phone. She lives over 1800 miles away now and I hear her aging voice and it brings tears to my eyes because over all the crap and anger and even abuse when I was a child, I grew to understand her and learned where her pain came from. Now she does not argue or talk about the bad time blues but seems to be embracing her mortaliity as the aches and pains come to haunt her and she is now more accepting than ever before.


“Who I Am”

Warm hands
Grasping tender skin,
Folding water,
Over and over again.
Wetting hair,
Eyes Bewildered!
Meet,
With a soothing voice
Of Reassurance

Wrapped up
With soft cotton essence,
Snug as bug,
In a soft woolen rug,
Tranquility enters the forum,
Against the roar of a vacuum,
Executing it’s debut
To the newborn’s room.

First steps are greeted
With commendable praise,
Creating a sense,
Of self respect.

Mischieft soon follows
Causing work hour rush;
With no’s and names,
Of things not to touch.

Many tears are shed,
Through the years,
From happy elations,
And disappointments to bear.
Maturity blossoms,
When responsibility is received,
Knowledge giving power,
To fly free
From then nest.

A knock on the door,
A phone ringing,
Into a cold night,
Tired and worn hands
Answer to inquire.

A voice enters,
The sullen air,
“Hello Mom,
I just wanted to tell you,
I love you
And
How much I care.”




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