Mother
by
James Shammas
(Age: 44)
copyright 04-21-2005
Age Rating: 10 to 127
Where the footprints end,
She walks the winding path,
The stones of her father's youth
Clacking along in pockets of dust,
In trousers trimmed and cuffed,
Belted tight,
Marching to the unending river
In the quickening night.
The wilting women wander there,
Wading in fickle waters
Like Virginia Woolf,
Floating their stones,
Waxing and waning
With her shouting soul,
Dying to be born
After the men she bore.
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
James,
this is an amazing work, and your comment made it that much more touching. I loved the way it began...as if picking up from where it ended. Lifting up from the ashes of our fathers, already doomed in our path to die. "We all wind up the same in the end."
And while part of us must die, it is our strength, our determination, that causes something else more beautiful to grow in its place
As a bit of context, Virginia Woolf (an absolutely amazing writer) drowned herself by walking into a river with a coat full of stones. My poem, for me, is about how certain important decisions in life are accompanied by feelings as if, in fact, part of us must die, or feel that way, in order to progress and move on with our lives. This is a very real feeling for me and I feel deeply for the poor lost soul who actually commits the act because of their psychological pain.
I like a poem that leaves the reader to find their own meaning. You could answer many questions in your mind with this one.Life's question, love's question and why. This is very thought provokong. Anthony
Welcome !
