Remembering Ma on Mothers Day

I actually wrote this the day before she passed on, when it was clear that the end was coming. Normally I prefer poems in rhymed verse, but this is what came out. Posting it here, now, seems an appropriate tribute on this first Mother's Day Sunday without her.

It seems that all creation
Must surely weep
For the passing of such a gentle soul
Loving
Kind
Gentle hands yet strong
Committed to each needful task
Cooking the family meals
Cleaning house
Laundry, folded neatly twice a week
Hands pressing out the wrinkles
Sewing up each rent, each tear, each worn place
In the life of her family
Her actions, each and all, making a home
But not alone through labor
Did she serve
But quiet faith
Burning like a candle
In the dark night of our souls
A blanket of prayers
To bring her wandering children safely home
Enfolding us in love
Divine and yes her own
Not perfect, no
Only One ever was perfect, within this mortal veil
But she served Him
As she served us
And taught us to do the same
Twinkling eyes of hazel green
That could snap like fire
In case of need
A ready smile
A way with words, uniquely hers
A touch of mischief
Irrepressible
Indominable
A solid anchor
In life’s storms
Gentle, soothing hands
To stroke away all pain
All pain but the loss of her

I miss you, Ma. And I love you.

Tom