EIGHTY (In Memory of my Mam)

The span

Of those who are strong

Is eighty

Years moulded by

Love

Laboured

Wrestled

Wrested

From the dark nourished soil

Of Genesis

Made precious

She has conceived

Borne

Birthed

Bred the child

Nursed

Nurtured

New clothed

Out of old discardings

Garden dug

Potatoes planted

Food upon the table

And when the time

For flying came

She let the children go

To strain and yearn

With life’s deep

Longing unsatisfied

She is honoured in them

Hungering

And most a mother

In overlooking fault

Standing staunch

Until the prodigal

Is retrieved