Mater Dolorosa

(For Emma Narvas Espiritu)


1.

She’s gone
like all mothers
of his days –
& the weighing scale
lists toward
things undone,
words unuttered
to connect the syntax
of the heart
that however stays
broken, rough,
edging into the silence
of all silences.
Yes, he could have done it
this way,
or that
but the moment had passed
a long, long time ago
when the world stood stockstill,
then spun around him
& him only:
& he could only stare
at the passing wind that,
chilly like
her hands of ice,
only stoked the firewood
of this wish,
she be here,
at his side
like an impossible child
again…
But she’s gone,
her voice
like the sound
of phantom hands clapping,
her eyes
forever gazing down
through the tunnel of light
at him
who stolidly holds on
to a fistful of slipping sand.


2.

Every woman
is mother to the child
who leaves at daybreak
& returns to her side
at the edge of night:
this unwritten duty
of sticking it out
through thick & thin –
neither mistaking the act
for faith or reason
but simply
holding each other’s hands
in the journey
toward a break of light.
Once one & indivisible,
each to each
they embrace
discovering the origins
of grace & love.
Every woman
is mother to the child.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Mater Dolorosa

  1. Beng says:

    Your poem is painful to read. I can feel the sadness: the restraint of a son’s sadness. I hope my son could write me beautiful words when I die, like you did for her. Sorry to hear about your mother. I missed you.

  2. I heard the good news: You’re going on a Ford scholarship. Keep in touch!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s