For My Mother Poem by Hugh Cobb
For My Mother
Seven years since your eyes
closed for the last time
forever.
Scrub clad in whites or greens,
they could not start your silent heart
though, oath-bound, they tried.
Finally, they let you go,
accepted your death.
Gone, you would not return
from that journey each must make alone.
I've sensed you since muted earth
rang upon your husk's metal house.
In dreams you've come & spoken to me:
solitary or with other family members
all dead like you. Our communication
seems clearer now than when we
shared our earthly bond.
My waking memory is not so vivid
as these dreams in whose confines
you are real to me again.
In night's silent cocoon,
I touch your face,
kiss your crinkled eyes,
& know once more your love:
your mothering touch
unsullied by the grave.
(rev.30 July 2005)
A loss which never leaves you. A love which always haunts you. A wonderful tribute to your mother Hugh.
having lost my mother this year, I find this a fine piece that pulls heart strings, no other loss quite like it
A fine tribute, Hugh. I would reconsider the word 'forever.' Otherwise, powerful and haunting. Martin
A soul capturing expression..feeling as though it did... just that. Beautiful Hugh.
Hugh, I imagine I feel like a peeping tom, as what you have written is so revealing and expressive. I envy your ability to dream, and recall dreams, and to phrase them so well. I feel compelled to read more of your work, but not yet. I tend to spend my time in humour, only happening on seriousness by chance, but when it touches, I know and feel it. Cheers. Danny
Very moving for all of us who have lost mothers. Isn't it extraordinary how our dreams bring her back to life. Quite beautiful, thank you. Linda
Hugh, this is an amazing poem in that you wrote with such love without simpering and you wrote about death with acceptance. Your dreams must bring you much comfort and writing this poem brings others comfort as well. Thank you Raynette
This is just beautiful Hugh, and indeed the way you describe her coming to you, is exactly the way they do. 10 from Tai
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 6:16:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Again you avoid cliche as one would avoid dog mess walking in a street in Amsterdam. Some loss we can never get over and there is no answer to the question why? We just don't.