Wednesday, March 29, 2023

Mom would be 106 years old


Dear Readers, My mom would be 106 years old today. Oddly enough, the longer she has been gone,

the more I appreciate her. Today I post a poem I wrote about her a while ago. Tomorrow I will post

a few thoughts about parents and ambivalence. Dear Readers, I would welcome your thoughts on the

 topic of our mixed feelings toward our parents. 


Raisins

On the lucky grammar school days, 
I found a little box of raisins
in my lunch bag packed by Mom

On the red box, the picture 
of the sun-maiden shone. 
She always wore a white apron 

and flashed a peaceful smile
as if to radiate the warmth
of the star that nurtures each one

of us and all the raisins in the world 
Mom passed on fourteen years ago
to this day. So, it is natural that I think

of her in this way. I think too 
about how we’re cut from the mother- 
cord of flesh and blood

while the grape is yanked 
from the mother vine of wood. 
What a treat, each raisin sucked

then chewed. Of course, I always 
wanted more of them. 
Don’t we always want 

More of any sweet fruit? 
But Mom sensibly warned 
that one box was enough. 

More lead to pain and sorrow
The sweetness held in these 
wrinkled skins once smooth 

now enhanced by sun and age. 
Oh, to see myself as one 
who harbors some sweet-secrets

A shriveled mortal morsel, passing
through nature’s order and disorder
that comes with time, the view 
from inside and outside our skins.
detached, we shrivel too to be boxed
and consumed by earth’s ravenous hunger




                
 




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