“For the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent
place.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
Heart stone, deeply buried
within the memory of a child
who saw her mother heal
alongside that quiet Lake
and came alive joining me
in the wonder of it all
Her blue eyes
always so distant
as if chasing a dream
no one knew she had.
A dream of some far off place
where voices were kind and
came from the outside
easing the rage within her
Watching me swim-
still lingering on shore
anchored by doubt
The fear
she would be swept away
further than she had ever been.
Mother, stranger
lost in a tide I couldn’t see
only when she smiled
feeling so at home
did I witness
the transformation
seeing the child in her
connect as she held
my hand
quickly letting go
When home came into view.
