A mother casts her dreams into the sea; We, the words sent bobbing towards the sun, The eggs of stone, the shards of prophesy. Because she must conclude her melody And fall back to the sweet dark hush of One, A mother casts her dreams into the sea, Hoping to cross that wild infinity And on some infant shore again to run, The eggs of stone, the shards of prophesy Outside the fiery circle of memory, The howling surf, the incessant years undone A mother casts her dreams into the sea> And then dissolves into a tapestry, Her rolling, helpless drift again begun, The eggs of stone, the shards of prophesy Afloat once more upon eternity, Once more the alien fury, never done Again, again, her dreams into the sea, The eggs of stone, the shards of prophesy!

A mother serves her sugar with A bit of peppermint To clarify the passages That carry what she meant When she first set to bear a soul Quite separate from her own, Whom she would cherish, yet must teach To live and die alone.

A vase of flowers in a window frame. A house of gentle light amid dark leaves. An ecstasy so sharp it feels like anguish, The pull that makes our beeline an ellipse. No transcendental morning's inspiration So ravishes the things we never see. We hear for all our lives a silent music To which we dance unknowing through our time. And even when we die, there is a beauty Older than the cold December stars, A part of us that waits behind the darkness To take us once again into its arms.

I never had a real mom, but I've had a mom that's real In all the things that moms should do, And all the things moms feel. I never had a mother, but I've had a mother's love. I've had the kisses and the hugs That therapists speak of. I guess I should be crazy with The things that I've been through. But I've had all a kid could need Because I have had you.

Mommy, please don't worry 'cause I'm doing really well, Even though I miss you on This Happy Mother's Day! Wishing you were with me 'cause In that case I could tell You all the things that happened to me While you were away. I love you even though you can't Be with me just for now. And I know you love me, too, 'Cause I'm your little child. And I'm sure that you will come To me someday, somehow, And I will see you look at me And know that you have smiled.

My mother was a mother as a child. Always she has cared for someone else: No chance to roam untouched among the wild, Unsuspected precincts of the self. Youth was shorter than a winter day, Prelude to a long and bitter night. For all the souls that fortune sent her way, She was the source of certitude and light. Giving only, often, as of need, Reflexively resigned to sacrifice, Inured to pain, and yet quite prone to bleed, Not looking at her loss, she paid the price. Yet love has given her this recompense: That she might savor still her innocence.

I see you working hard for me And wonder what it means: Whether I will do the same And give up my own dreams To offer someone else my world, A stranger from my womb, And say: Here, take my life, So you, not I, can bloom. I often wonder at the depth Of that cool sacrifice; I know it can't be "just because," Or simply to be nice. It is so awesome, I can't think How I could make that choice, Except I see something in you That gives my own heart voice. I see sometimes a happiness Amid the stressed-out day That no one else can hope to know In any other way. I feel it when you look at me And understand sometimes That things I do, I do for two, And then your hard life shines. And when I give you grief, I know That all the bitter pain Between a mom and growing child Is simply like the rain That alternates with sunny days, Passion without end,

Mother of my loved one, hear my love On this, a day when such sweet words are due. Take to heart the heartfelt praise that you Have long bestowed but wanted little of. Even as waves hunger for the shore, Resting their long yearnings on the sand, So I have found in you a mother, and Delighted in the sunlight at your door. An accident of love brought us together, Yet though I chose not, I would choose no other.

You taught me how to love you by The way that you loved me; And by your unseen sustenance, To see what you could see. You gave to me through who you were The gift of what I am. Your pride in me is now my pride; Your faith, my caravan. Your life does not conclude with death, Nor will it end with mine, For all the lives I touch, you touch, And so on through all time.

Your love is like the Arizona sun: Always there, no matter what I do. Bathed in light, I feel my love for you, But words are gone before I have begun. I don't know why I find it hard to say The things that rest so deeply in my heart. It seems almost impossible to start, As though they're too ungainly to display. I cherish you and what you feel for me. I'm lucky that I have you for a mom. I love you with a love that's sweet and calm, And vast, like some unending inner sea. You're the one I'm with when I'm alone; You're the place within my heart that's home.

You were my mother and my friend, Which was unusual. Somehow our characters still blend: Your wisdom and my will. I turned, and you were there for me; I spoke, you understood. I felt cared for, but also free; You loved, and I was good. I'm fortunate that I was born To someone just like you; I love you still. Though you are gone, You live in what I do.

Your legacy must be both love and fear. I know that when you died, you feared for me. The family curse you carried in your breast Was not a gift you wanted to pass on. But fear of it, just like my love for you, Must linger in my heart, unwelcome guest! And as I weep for your too early death, I also can hear rumblings of my own. Ah, Mother! We are linked like paper dolls, A line of little cutouts in a row. I see my clearest memories in my mirror And feel your anguish bloom beneath my breast. For this, my love for you is more, not less. In our misfortune there's a common grace: For me, in that you must have grieved my burden; For you, in that you must have mine foreseen.