Mother (the queen)

Love expressed in countless ways,
baby lies down for strangers.

Me, dressed like my mother

The child
gives her penny,
the King,
with mighty gifts. Everyday –
-Forgiveness given freely,
the child’s only wish.

If we feel obligation
it is not cheerful, as the wren.
The wings of the heart
with soulful pleasure
the child nonetheless.

Emily Dickinson said “I’m nobody. Who are you?”.

I am nobody too
standing in the shadows
the queen perched on high.
Will the King be braver
look down on me,
bend His wing with favor?

I fall away
as the leaves wither,
turn, turn, turn
-Turn around.

Originally written in 2011 with major revisions.


Memoir Photography Poetry

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