Claudia Krizay (1/28/1956 / Washington DC)
A True Mom
From childhood memories of band aids and skinned knees,
To those of losing myself to another world,
You were always there for me.
You were the mother in my heart,
The one who tucked me in bed at night, and the one who listened to my tears.
You held my hand when we crossed the street, and when
I crossed that bridge from sanity to unreality.
At that moment when I began to lose myself-
You stood before me with open arms.
In my make believe world, I was a little girl at twenty one-
This nobody understood, but you showered me with your love-
The mother of my dreams- you were not make believe.
I would give you dandelion stems, their thistles gone, or
A thorny and wilted rose- and to you- they were always beautiful.
My aunt, my mother, and my sister you were
But most important, my best friend.
In those moments when I mistrusted that world
Spinning out of control, in your world, I believed.
Your house was my castle, my sanctuary, and my safe haven.
Last week you told me that you were leaving this world-
The lights are dimming as thunder claps, and with a
Gust of wind, you shall be gone…
You shall always be the mother
I carry safely inside my heart.
Day turns to night, dawn to dusk, and after the sunsets,
I am left here in the darkness wondering
Where those dandelion thistles are dancing now?
I am certain that you shall remember how beautiful
Their stem was the day I gave it to you,
My mother of my heart, soul and spirit.
When they tear your house down,
In my thoughts my palace shall forever remain.
It was there that court jesters made me laugh, and
From a little princess I grew to become a queen.
If your rays of hope and light had not
Shone upon my desperate and wounded soul,
A pauper without a place or home
In this world, I may be.
After you are gone, I know that deep inside
That your spirit shall always live on,
Bandaging my skinned knees and
Listening with close attention to my tears…
Comments about this poem (A True Mom by Claudia Krizay )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings