Saturday, May 9, 2009

For my Mother


For Helen Marie Budros


1922-1984





Paper Moons,

Tear them up Terry,



Helen of Crete,

The face that launched us all,





The Student Prince,

singing both parts,





Down the street, children follow, calling after

"Oh, Lana!" after Lana Turner




The nightclubs where, with hennaed hair

and fox stole, you stole the show, where

the spot light reserved to shine on stars and twould stop the band

stopped when you crossed the room, lit you and and followed you because and even though

you could all on your own

light up the room and

all could marvel at your striking beauty



Too much strength, become weakness


Too tough, yet soft, lovely


Streetwise, elegant


Sharper than most, shining on both sides.


Multifaceted brilliance.


Humor surprising


Joy like beams of light through clouds


A fighter, my advocate. Unafraid


of everything, except being too alone with her sadness and loss.


Wind beneath my wings,



Angels stole my wind



too early



too long since



your lovely smile, and happy twinkling eyes



have been any more than a memory



your broken heart, followed



eventually by your brokenness



until



your were taken from us



too early



so that I nearly



never want to be



early again



Mother of Seven, bereft set adrift loser of one, Great Depression survivor, minor depression sucumber, sister to four, Electrician's Apprentice, Rosie the Riveter, War Widowed by the love of her life, and yet not leaving my Father in Viduity when she left us because, Fool that he was, in one way at least, he'd already left her, all of us, really, artist, writer, crossword puzzler, mathemetician, strong tea with milk- hot or cold, stronger coffee without, wearer of Mitsouko, mover of Mountains, classic beauty, master- with Helen Cook- of the streaming multiple simultaneous conversation, Dubbed- with Helen Cook, "Fountain of Useless Information" by Col. Cook, drinker of warm beer (also with Helen Cook), smoker, broken heart.



For my Mother. Happy Mother's Day, Mumma. I love you. I miss you. I wish you could see them; they're really beautiful, amazing. I know you love them. You're in them. I know they'd love you, too.

3 comments:

  1. What a hauntingly beautiful photo… A classic beauty!

    You’ve left me nearly without words - this is a truly stunning poem, Circe. Absolutely one of the most dignified and elegant tributes I’ve ever read.

    Hugs, and much love and light,
    Amanda

    ReplyDelete
  2. This blew me away. So, so beautiful.

    Thank you for sharing.

    ReplyDelete

 
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