IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
Mum was a Joyful Juggler of Life
A Poem
She was from all of us
and we
from all of her
Born of the Irish
she died a born-again Italian
Growing up
her fragile mother rested
while she and her sisters
bathed baby Claire
in a love so powerful
it could wash away her disability
She was from the love
of a high school sweetheart
so fierce it left her
pregnant for nearly ten years straight
A joyful juggler of life
one in her belly
one on her hip
one holding her leg
the others bouncing about
in coordinated controlled chaos
She was from a kitchen picnic table
four burners boiling
tangled rosary in her apron pocket
twisted around wooden clothespins
Honored guest
at screen porch productions
captain of the snow shoveling brigade
she was the only face we dreamed of pleasing
She was from hands free discipline
bendy rules
and Church glances
that could smite you on the spot
A master of resting her eyes
she joyfully awaited
the next knock at the door
partial to the short ones with wobbly legs
Prayerful
progressive
and pained
A devout Catholic
accepting of the other
holy but not a roller
she took her Church leaders
with a big fat grain of salt
She was from Job-like tragedies
that left her breathless
but never hopeless
Willing to let the sharp side
of love pierce her through
she held on for dear life
one hand over the wound
one hand reaching out to comfort
Her faith was served
straight up
to everyone
shaken maybe
but not stirred by winds of doubt
She poured radical loving kindness
all over us until
we were permanently stained
with her goodness
She was from all of us
and we
from all of her.
My George Ella Lyon’s poem celebrating where my mum was from.
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https://medium.com/@ellencatherinewrites
