Jeanette Gallagher writes love poems (O, April; Questions for My Husband’s Doctor) but they’re never exactly what we expect. Each one contains its own little wrinkle that sets it apart. This is her Mother’s Day offering. In Jeanette’s own words: “This poem is dedicated to my daughter-in-law, Jean, in honor of her mother, whom she recently lost.”
Seasons of a Mother’s Hands
(for Jean)
(for Jean)
By Jeanette Gallagher
Hands smooth as a robin’s song
Gentle fingers pat pastry dough
For pies, sweeter than music.
Hands cool as rain on summer’s porch
Heal fever’s face with gentle touch
Soothing sighs, light as pastry.
Hands red hot slap a daughter’s face
That spins into the bone white wall
Cheeks seared with shouts, I hate you!
Hands joined in reconciliation
She walks into eternity
With whispers of a daughter’s love.
WOW! This shows sweet thoughts of ones mother and then snaps us into reality. Life is not always peaches and cream.
Bravo!!
A very vivid portrait. Nicely done.
I love this poem’s arrangement, the progression through each line into such a beautiful final stanza. It’s graceful and true and familiar.
A mother and daughter’s cords bind tight, in love and hate. Thank you.
Sharon