A poetic reflection in anticipation of Mother’s Day

From my childhood (alack, sometimes still) wishing and wanting,
now, lo, to and through these many years,
watching and witnessing the wishing and wanting of others,
this, it seems to me, is what mothers do…

house blueprint

Design homes for their children
(whether borne from their wombs or bestowed from others,
their children).

Homes, the seeds of hope’s dreaming,
then built, the fruits of faith’s intention,
and wisdom’s intuition with:

house construction

foundations firm on which,
in confidence,
to test, to stand;
on which curiosity, adored, dances
and questions are respected,
thus, “Why?”, deemed a favored word,
oft implored to be heard;

walls on which hang the portraits of history and memory,
the remembrance and counsel of which ground the imagination of young eyes
when peering through windows of contemplation
abroad onto the wider world of experiment’s anticipation
and soon-enough-to-be discovery’s own experience;

ceilings, not of limitation,
but of protection from life’s elemental forces of hurt
and toward which to gaze
projecting visions of exploration,
and trusting the presence of infinite cosmos, above and beyond,
thus, learning, knowing,
alway recalling
that one’s self is ne’er the highest point.

This, among manifold things,
is what mothers do;
creating homes in which children
(as they [mayhaps wishing and wanting] were afore)
evermore will abide in the heart of love’s care.

2 thoughts on “Mothering

  1. Paul,
    This is beautiful!! At the end of each stanza I thought of how each applied to my Mom and my upbringing!! Wonderful memories flashed through my mind!! My Mom created an amazing home for us, and convinced us that anything we wanted to do was possible. Though Mom never owned a house nor a car, she made every place she exposed us to feel like it was our home and that we belonged there. Everything I do today is because of who Mom raised me to be.

    I’ll read this to Mom on Sunday! Thanks and love!


    1. I thought of you and Doris as these words came to mind and heart and were transmitted via my computer keyboard. I also thought of myself and what I longed to receive and to have and, at times, did not and, at times, did receive and have. And I thought of the countless stories I have heard via pastoral conversations of the longings and losses of others. As for you, I am happy to have written something meaningful for you and your blessed mother. Happy reading to her. Love


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