Sunday, May 11, 2014

To My Mom on Mothers' Day

To My Mother

You painted no Madonnas
    On chapel walls in Rome

But with a touch divine
    You brought her to our home.

My beautiful mother, with her (and our!) life ahead of her.

You wrote no lofty poems
    That critics counted art
But with a nobler vision
    You lived them in your heart.

First married.

You carved no shapeless marble
    Into some high soul design
But with a finer sculpture
   You shaped this soul of mine.

Five of the seven.

You built no great cathedrals
    That centuries applaud
But with a grace exquisite
    Your life cathedraled God.

All seven of us.
(And half of us teenagers!  Poor Mom.)

Had I the gift of Raphael
 Or that of Michelangelo
Oh, what a rare Madonna
 My mother’s life would show.


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