On The Sublime reflections On My Mother Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A.Yousef

In the quiet kitchen,
where the sun spills warm light
onto the wooden table,
her laughter dances with the steam,
a gentle waltz of daily life,
simple and profound.

She is the heart of these walls,
the breath in every corner,
tending to plants in clay pots,
her hands moving like whispers,
nurturing roots, whispering secrets.

At dawn, she stands by the window,
eyes tracing the horizon,
as if pulling threads of dreams,
philosophies stitched with patience,
her thoughts wandering like clouds,
never tethered down.

In moments when the world spins fiercely,
and storms shake the glass panes,
she becomes a mountain,
steady and towering,
a force of nature against the winds,
her voice a calm sea, steady,
or sometimes, gentle rain.

She teaches me to notice,
the quiet rustle of leaves,
to find beauty in the mundane,
that the mundane blooms with meaning,
that washing dishes can echo hymnals,
that folding clothes is a tender art.

Memory becomes a garden,
tended with our laughter,
each visit a petal falling,
every hug a budding rose,
colors bright against the gray sky.
In her smile I find solace,
the simple promise of the sublime,
the treasure found not in gold or silver,
but in moments of stillness,
cradled in time.

In her eyes, shadows of the past dance,
stories folded like an old quilt,
each patch a chapter, every stitch a bond,
from childhood days to twilight whispers,
lessons wrapped in warmth.

A recipe simmering on the stove,
home as the sweetest verse,
the scent of spices,
the crackle of a warm fire,
all calling me to come sit,
to be still, and just be.

So, here I stand, years later,
with memories woven into my heart,
an echo of her laughter still alive,
with each word I write,
a tribute to her strength,
the sublime in her ordinary grace,
where love resides, quietly glowing,
like stars lighting the evening skies
of my ever-expanding life.