For My Mother

First the Morning Came

billowing the Sails upon

which she Danced, lithe

in Motion twirling

in Synch with her Breathing

this Young Woman

grown in Brooklyn, born

of immigrants

from Palestine, land

of Refugees, her Father

a quiet Carpenter

of gentle Patience and

sure Hand her Mother

teacher and Guide she

aimed at the Stars who

showed her the way into

Medicine healer of

wounds and aches with

a quiet Grace singer of

Gretchen at the spinning Wheel

and the Queen of the Night -- I see

her now in her hospital bed

breathing slowly now

she could not swallow she faded

into death with peace

and gentle forbearance my Mother

who bore me up when I

was down, whose compassion

of great depth

kept me afloat through difficult times, whose

love for me reminded me

of the beauty in the world the

neverending cycle of

birth and demise whose memories

will only grow with

Time this my Mother may

you rest in peace.