A MOTHER’S HOPE
She would not move over,
that hopeful mom.
She waited and watchedfor a son to come,
but he didn’t.I could feel her pain
oozing disappointment—
a wound reopened.
Year after year
on Mother’s Day
alone on the pew she sat,
eyes fixed on the pulpit,
an empty seat to her left
as minutes passed
and no one filled the void.
I know the feeling…
she never heard the preacherbecause her ears were strained
to the swinging doors behind her.
Then came the arrival of
the last song, the last prayer,
another Mother’s Day alone—
come and gone
and another year
to brace for the next.
Claudia Lowery
May 2010
This occurred at my mother’s church as I squeezed into the row to sit with my mother, the woman next to us wouldn’t budge. At first I resented her stalwart, unmoving position that took up all the space, but as the service concluded I realized and remembered my own experiences…and she was about 80 years old. My heart went out to her…how selfish of me!
BIG MAN WALKING IN SNOW
He is large and lumbers silently
through seldom seen snow—
a gentle crunch surrounds
his big boots.
Eerie blueness fills the sky
reflected in crystalline powder,
he labor to breathes the icy blast,
his lungs, old too soon—
the cigarettes aging prematurely.
But who could resist the clean air?
Who could stay in when
one day is given
to walk tall and large through
the experience that’s rare.
He strives, it’s hard,
but his cheeks are red
and he takes it in—
the cold
the gift
the snow.
Claudia Lowery
May 16, 2010
