My Estonian Mother Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

I loved my mother's patient ways
in suffering and dearth
and being torn from near and dear
in lands that gave her birth

I love my mother's calming ways
when sickness robbed her sounds
and when with sores her back was razed
with chains of pain was bound

I love my mother's simple ways
of doing household chores
without a thanks or gratitude
through times of peace and wars

The garden that she loved so well
and tended every day
was one night bombed and smashed to bits
no time to cry nor stay

So many seasons passed away
she suffered with no qualms
and never uttered a complaint
yet always kept her calm

When she got old and time drew on
a garden plot so rare
was given her in tropic lands
with sunshine everywhere

No longer in a northern clime
where apple orchards bloomed
this garden burst with oranges
and jasmines rich perfume

God has his ways of doing things
that we can't understand
and I am glad my mom at last
was given a new land

New shoots arose from ashen ground
and new soil bloomed once more
the trees now heavy with much fruit
and crotons by the door

Soon her sweet voice was heard again
in singing 'neath the trees
of golden fruit and flower sprays
with dragonflies and bees

I loved my mother's patient ways
in suffering and dearth
and being torn from near and dear
in lands that gave her birth.