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Mother Mother
by Abigail George
2019-04-07 06:40:52
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(for the Dutch poet Joop Bersee)

They all had this other life I knew nothing

    about. This distant family in name only on
    my father’s side. And so I go beyond good
mothand evil. Beyond grace and disgrace. Religion gave
    me a new vision on life. It helped me overcome
    this useless pain. Through it all I found the
    meaning of this world’s earthiness. The word’s
    salvation that lifted us up to her see-level.
    The speed of history changing research and
    intellect carrying us. I am philosopher like
    Nietzsche and Sartre. Plato and Socrates.
    To me religious faith and despair are the same.
    They are the only answers to human suffering.
    Her love goes on and on and on. I was
    shy once. Withdrew from the world for years.
    Understand this. The world as I knew it
    then was beyond my pale control. There were
    chains I could not break, or live with. Life
    happens and when it does break you sometimes
    you must muse and risk everything. You
    must move away from what is really important,

    and not worry, or despair. Move towards
    who you love. I think of the breath of the
    waterfall. What it needs, what effort it makes
    to be beautiful like a young girl or a woman.
    I think of the deep shadow of the fractured
    wind. How there is nothing else that I want
    in this moment that flexes itself like the shake
    of a fish out of water. I am yours forever and
    forever. Remember the brave, I want to
    tell my forgiving sister so able and so, so wise
    like our father, and brother, and mother. Those
    that live in poverty, do not forget them, but
    I don’t know if she’s listening to me. I don’t
    know her reasons. Once I was arrogant. I created
    that tragic feeling, not God or a human king.
    We give ourselves over to the laws of our

    mother. It is necessary for our own imagined
    creations. We worship her as daughters. Our
    hearts are an open sea with a constant overflow
(because of her). We are the created. Not the creator. Day
    breaks. Every nihilist brings novel scenes to
    kitchen table wisdom. Mother opens the
    curtains. It is a new day. Light fills and fills
    the rooms of the house. And I am reminded
    of photographs, pictures from childhood,
    Johannesburg cousins, her subtle powers of
    persuasion when it came to us, her daughters.

Abigail George has two books in the Ovi Bookshelves,
"All about my mother" & "Brother Wolf and Sister Wren"
Download them, NOW for FREE HERE!


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