Mother’s Day gift

Awakened on Mother’s Day morning by the frustrated cries of a boy who cannot speak or see,

Resurrects in me a sadness, an impotence, a yearning.

 

Observing the stares as we make our way around the playground,

Reviving in me a familiar frustration, fatigue, dejection.

 

Sitting with family on Mother’s Day afternoon while my son cries in his room,

Stirring in me a questioning, a waiting, a hoping.

 

Juggling with my thoughts in the dark of night,

Resuming a well known battle of feelings inside.

 

Then comes my salvation,

Mercifully, as it always does.

It shakes me and re-directs my thoughts…

Perspective.

Like a faithful teacher, once again.

It alters my thinking and breaks open my heart…

Perspective.

The birthplace of Gratitude,

The cradle of Compassion,

The doorway to Action.

Perspective.

 

Tonight, it whispers in my ear…

“What is mother’s day like for them?

Left and forgotten, tied within and without.

What is mother’s day like for them?

A Mother’s day in a motherless place.”

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