Day 50: Marina

Oh Mother!

Oh kisser of bruises and scraped knees

Brave adventurer through stories told at night-time

And narrator of parables over meals at the table


Fingers that could spin gold when they weave my hair

Wisest of women

When she cries, my heart breaks into the most broken it’s ever been

When she prays over me, I understand what it means to have the peace that passeth understanding

Were she not my mother I know somehow we would still have been friends

To be half of who she is

Is to still be a woman of substance


Drier of tears and sharer of burdens

Do you really know how much I love you?

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