When my mother came to die She never wore her glasses anymore Sometimes now neither do I Since there is little to see but the door Yet beyond this waits the sky
I mostly wear my glasses for the moon To search its surface for a face Familiar to me to see again soon Found in the sky the fond embrace Of one I loved and lost who went before
One who is loved is never lost The moon is high but not too high Open the door nor count the cost What waxes must wane To wax yet again
My mother is smiling tonight and I Am ready to live to die and to rise My mother's son now a child of the sky I take off my glasses and realize All I need to see is here within me
Closer than the moon and nearer than soon Right here right now I am risen and free
Beautifully penned Steven, waves of love }}}}}} Barbara
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on July 17, 2007
wonderful sacred sentiments; love the allusion to sight/glasses/realness. .what is the most real in us is what we cannot even touch, intangible. ..absolutely wrenching and wrapping. ..
.ness.
Reviewed by twinklewrites at her desk (Reader)
Reviewed on July 17, 2007
Steve...a beautiful dedication...
"All I need to see is here within me
Closer than the moon and nearer than soon
Right here right now I am risen and free"
Especially loved these lines...your Mother is always there!
NOW AVAILABLE!
This book is a limited edition, and copies are hand numbered. It will NOT be available through Amazon or other distributors. You must purchase it directly from the author or from this site. It is hard-back (not the spiral bind seen
Early Works is an exhaustive compilation of the first decade of the poems and stories of Z.B.McClure. Included are family photos, rare personal photos, photos of 1st draft manuscripts of many of his early poems. Also some biography and memoir materia
Chrissy
God Bless,
Lew
.ness.
"All I need to see is here within me
Closer than the moon and nearer than soon
Right here right now I am risen and free"
Especially loved these lines...your Mother is always there!
Hugs, Peggy