I didn't know what I would think,
I didn't know what I would say,
I didn't know if you would see things the way I did on this clear Summers day.
Standing at the gate, plants just purchased at my side,
Symbols of beauty, growth and Magic,
I look in at the familiar garden.
Washing on the line, socks spinning gently in the soft Summer breeze...
I am a stranger at the gate of my Mother's home.
Tears well up in my eyes as I hear the voices of my Mother, my sister;
Should I turn away now, no one the wiser,
Content simply with an updated image of Life here, as compared with the one I took away those years ago?
Too late, I've been seen,
Someone is walking towards me down the path...
Everything slows down in those few moments,
My instinct is to run, a scared rabbit bolting down it's hole...
But I find myself standing quite still..
and asking if my Mother is home...
How strange to be a stranger....
At my Mother's Gate.
PS
Love ya!
Jane
At my Mother's Gate."
I'm there. Or was. My mother passed on. I wasn't able to cry at her funeral. Or any other time. I understand "Stranger At The Gate" quite well.
This is brilliant in its simplicity, and the images are delightful.
What's more, love shines through from beginning to end.
So glad I got to read this.
SO glad.
xOx Phyllis xOx
myself dreading the day when i shall no longer know the joy of
her sparkling blue eyes and loving embrace. we have traveled such
a long and winding road together...
cherish those you love while they are still here!
peace and blessings,
carolyn
Always,
Amor
Love to you,
Cryssa
Cheers,
Dan
fee
and sense perhaps that soon the stranger at the gate
will cease to be a stranger. -gene
One must forge forward to mend ill moments of the past
a mother, a father a sister, a brother....
they are all part of our life, our household
Love & peace be with you
William
with perfect tone and mood.
I'll share this with a nephew who refuses to
visit his mother..i keep telling him 'she's
your mother and she's not young'...maybe he'll listen.
Thank You for this.
John
It appears that although many things remained the same at the place you once called home, there were also changes that had been made as well. And we can only assume that over this period of four years both you and your mother will have noticed a few changes in one another, too. Now, being the good writer that you are, you have left your readers with a thousand questions to be answered regarding this reunion with your mother. Finally, you have left us with the hope that you are a stranger no more.
Love,
David
Newfie Hugs, Rose
Life's so short...
Written in a great style. I was in the position of the poet as I read this. Super work.
Namaste
Tony
Regis
Mark
Diana,
These words walk upon the very essence of my being...I recall the times of lost repor of my own doings with my mother...glad should I be to today be a stranger at mothers gate...God Bless you dear friend.
Allen