Christine Busta

(23 April 1915 - 3 December 1987 / Vienna)

Taking Up - Poem by Christine Busta

I have inherited my mother's
walking stick.
Her life was harder than mine,
and yet she needed it
much later than I.

Now, when I support myself with it,
I grip once more the hand
that my stubborness
so often resisted
and hear her quiet voice:

'I have always known
that you'll never take good care
of yourself. You are
too much my daughter.
Come! Stand up straight! '

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 25, 2012

Poem Edited: Sunday, May 27, 2012

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