My Mothers Wait
For Their Belated
Mother’s Day Poem

Charlotte to Charlotte says,
“Watch. This week she will buy seed bread
and do five loads of laundry instead.”

Laura Matilda and Irene Genevieve know:
“But after straightening two sofa pillows,
her words will grow like dust on the piano.”

Margaret Irene whispers to Wanda Margaret,
“But first she will nibble dark chocolate
hidden in the kitchen towel drawer, I bet.”

Folded, uncluttered, sweet, alone, the poem comes.
The mothers hum two hundred years of grief-love
one month before my daughter, with her name, leaves home.


2 Responses to “My Mothers Wait
For Their Belated
Mother’s Day Poem”

  1. eduardo says:

    will the circle/be unbroken/by and by lord/by and by/…

    ruedas entre ruedas van las vidas/ruedas entre ruedas van asi -Tish Hinojosa
    (round and round go our lives/round and round so they go)

  2. I just revisited this site and was touched again even more than the first time. Rachel, my daughter, I read more into this every time I read it! I love how you write and I feel you were right there by my mothers side and grandmothers side and my great grandmothers side. My mother, beautiful inside and out, shared her love and stories about her love and pride of her mother, Irene Genevieve, as I’m sure Irene did also about her loving mother Laura Matilda. What a loving tribute to my mother and your grandmother and all that came before them. Needless to say, I have been truly blessed to be the daughter of Margaret! She loved like no other with her love and devotion to her family! Yes, I wonder if each had a love of chocolate, that they hid in drawers under their secret little spots. There is no love like the love I received from my mother!

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