Dear Zipporah

Take a look
While you are still
Take in the humor, and the irony
The twists of faith in everything
The sky upon the hill

Accept what it is, as what is
and it will be more mysterious still
but accepting it will set you free

Don’t be afraid to move around,
Till you feel your feet find solid ground
I know it’s hard to settle in sometimes
So much easier to just “survive”

Just remember change shall ever remain
Sometimes bringing diamonds dipped in pain
Or beauty deep within the darkest days

Remember, recollect and rearrange
Be what you call forth
Be the change that you endorse
Be the star that you look towards

Love, Mom

Mother’s Day (age 17)

A child still wanders through the lands
that lived in library books and puppet shows
I still run bare foot through puddles
and stick my fingers in hot pools of melted wax,
to remember the feeling
of putting small “smell-good-hearts” in your cupped hands
The smell of thrift stores, your infectious laugh

Though lullabies and fireflies linger in my dreams,
the last tufts of Babies-Breath are wilting at my feet

A disarray of lessons, and particular moments and secrets,
turning the soil soft and sweet

A bed made for a new age

17 years of your doting endearment
have made gardens of my childhood
and a perennial morale grow, from the hearts of troubled seeds

The band on your finger, that let me know which hand was yours in a crowed place
or sea of uncertainty
Still I look for that beacon to guide me in the right direction when I am lost
Showing me always to turn towards the sun

No one could be a better mother to me,
I hope to become the Rose, you meant for me to be