Letters From My Mother
By John Herlihy

I still half expect letters from my mother,
The memory of her devotion impossible to smother.
I still half wait for them in a corner of my mind,
To have all of her news with nothing left behind.
What she had accomplished, when and what about,
To ensure she was in good health and relieve my doubt.
My mother and I used the letters our link to survive,
We exchanged these letters to keep our love alive.
Because of distance, there were two weeks leeway,
Pauses in the news about what we had to say.
Still the continuity and consistency were preserved,
If confusion arose in the narrative, the details blurred.
The mystery of life in this world never sets us free,
I am old now, an image my mother will never see.
She told us that in her dreams we kids were forever young,
While in my mind, the memory of my mother forever old.
Individual life histories have their moment in letters spun,
Preserved as sacred memories that are forever retold.
I still half expect to see those familiar aerogram letters,
To release me into the past, free of these future fetters.