mother meek

For Erleen. May your beautiful mother-soul rest in peace.


it took you two minutes to read me,
to tell me what i sound, smell, taste like;

it took me two centuries to come out of my cave
and play, a web of shining sound hanging

from shaking teeth. i am slave,
manufacturer, warrior, priest, king: all

embodied, poised to inherit the earth.
but it is the minor keys of the mother

being played out in the background—
ever layering, ever loving—

that will win out in the end;
the weak in reverse,

the binaries of her
music box—slight and

strong—turning, bending in
the wind, building the

tender-fierce frame-
work of the world.

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2 thoughts on “mother meek

  1. Beautifully evocative. I love how the structure begins to wither, become more slender lines toward the end, a lot like the last few gasps for air. What a lovely way to honor someone.

  2. lunachik4 says:

    Thank you. What a beautiful observation – and fitting to the poem, how even as one withers and is becoming weaker and dying, she is stronger than ever in those than live on before her. ❤

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