Mother

I suspect she carried more,

cared more

than I ever knew,

for I never really knew

her.

Irises were her favorites,

but Mother was more like

a rose,

opening slowly,

cautiously,

unsure,

perplexed by layers of petals,

trying to settle them

just

exactly

right

but ending up windblown,

sun-faded,

pollen dusted,

stemmed with thorns,

holding deep in her center

the longing to

everything

right

to be the chosen rose.

I think I understand better now,

for I carry more

and care more

than my children will ever know.

Irises are one of my favorites,

but maybe I am a

slowly

unfolding

rose.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

And Happy Mother’s Day!

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Carry the Calm