Where is my mother now who told me once when it was the 1970s
that life is to be questioned but not necessarily rejected,
who showed me how to enthuse from a place of doubt,
who wanted only the best for me though she had less,
who laughed till tears came and never let me see her cry,
who was the careful editor in a storm of imperfections,
who asked and gave,
who wished and accepted,
who stood for the beacon of art that showed both her and me
the way to reach and stay, in some kind of peace, home?

 

August 1 2023