Mother and Son

For profoundly disabled Michael, who would have been 42 today – and for his mother, gone 13 years on April 19

oak 

She sits beneath a massive oak

in the Garden of Noble Women.

Garden of the Promise

 for those who have borne the burden

yet never  heard the Word. 

He never walked. He never fed himself.

He never saw the light or heard the sound.

He never said the Word.

And when he died she buried him amidst her tears

in the lands of the Lord Calvert on the road to Padonia.

Now she sits in the quiet of a Summer’s day

waiting for the promise to be fulfilled.

boy_kite.htm

On the horizon a kite and a  little boy

running o’er the meadow.

Sun lit mop top hair

  dancing in the breeze

Part running part falling toward her

Little fingers of his left hand leading the way

reaching for her

running like a little boy flying a  kite.

He is perfection

and as she rises joyfully on young legs

she moves toward him

and sees the face of God.

The same face now perfect in His image.

And from his laughing face she hears the Word 

The Word God  promised

to those who bore the burden

yet never heard the word.

 

“Mommy!  Mommy!”  

.

—————————————————–

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About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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3 Responses to Mother and Son

  1. jfwknifton says:

    That brought a tear to my eye. A lovely poem and a wonderful tree.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. beetleypete says:

    Such a sad time of year for you, Frank. As always, you mark it with dignity, and affectionate recollection.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 2 people

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