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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2128791
Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2128791
Poem 07.21.17

Fifty

How many stars have watched
My fifty turns around the sun?

Today I feel the tug of mothers
absent by death and by refusal:

"DO NOT CONTACT US" resounds,
then fades, like surf washing the shore.

Found in 2014, lost in 2017, I never knew her,
but grew strong in the ocean of her belly.

Birth mother's secret pain tears a crevasse in the glacier
of years that separate us, all fifty of them,

cold and icy. Silent. In her Berkshire grave, my mother
rests. I was adopted right into her heart.

I know she loved me beyond measure,
and part of me nestles there too. She knew me

so well that if I called her, she could tell
if all was well, or if I was upset.

And she cared.
No more calls. She is gone.

And now I, a mother myself, to two young women,
reflecting on half a life well lived,

am grateful for the resounding love of my daughters
and their father. Grateful to be able to help others

silently heal
the wounds of their hearts.



Mary Kay Rehard



Mary Kay Rehard 2017

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2128791