My Mother Weeps at Night
Sometimes when I’m alone I think of her
The spaces in her heart that hurt,
The sorrow she feels that only silence can heal.
Tears that stretch long like a ribbon.
I know my mother weeps at night,
And the prayers she makes at midnight.
I know the mountains she longs to conquer
The fountains of hope yet to be discovered.
I know my mother’s fears in wrapped in a smile
The reprieve she needs for all sleep deprived nights
Whilst listening to crickets compete in the silence
She needs sunsets,
She needs magic,
She needs poems.
So strong, yet so vulnerable,
So gently, yet so direct.
Age has folded the untold stories in her wrinkles
Like fine wine aging like the forest trees
While on her shoulders we hang our dreams.
In the end we will remember all the words that rose from her heart and died on her lips.