The Moon and my Mother
Siofra O'Donovan from Out of Dark Waters, Over Mountains
Out of Dark Waters, Over Mountains Blog on myth, folklore and peculiar things through tales of travel and dream
Thanks for reading Out of Dark Waters, Over Mountains ! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. THE MOON AND MY MOTHER We sat by the river, picking garnets out of pomegranates Wishing, under the moon, that the first steps I took Under the birch tree could be retraced- Like a silver map through time. And we could know that the spiders that watched Had no malice And the wolves creeping behind the trees Were not hungry. That by the river, under the moon, The world held us. And my little feet knew The tickle Was nothing more Than a lady bird going home. Ave Maria Thank you Mother. Thank you Jenny. © Siofra O’Donovan, 2 August 2018 Written on the last day of my mother’s life on earth.
Remembering the seeds of the pomegranate, the ashes, the dust. The mayhem. Dishes flying across the kitchen. The compassion. The pearls. The diamond. The rage at apron strings. The Russian nanny. The piano, the Chanson Triste. The path out of here, through fire. The ashes, the dust. The ashes gone to the sea. No grave to tend to. The compassion, the rage. Thank you Mother, Mum, Muv, Jenny, Jennifer-Anne. For everything. We miss you. RIP.
 
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© 2024 Siofra O'Donovan
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