Posts Tagged ‘ mother ’
Sybrina Fulton, mother of Trayvon Martin, wipes her eyes during a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on “Stand Your Ground” laws on October 29, 2013, in Washington, DC.Win McNamee/Getty Images
Between Covid-19 and police brutality, the burden of grief is yet another risk to Black mothers’ health.
Mamie Till-Mobley weeps at her son’s funeral on Sept. 6, 1955, in Chicago. (Chicago Sun-Times/AP)
She changed history.
Source: – The Lily
Summer Time — The Full Moon
Four Days After July 27th
my mother silently went to heaven four days ago
and tonight is the full moon
my mother quietly completed her work
the last penance called living
when she breathed in and exhaled as though reaching
as far back as to the Inca Empire
the thin river of her life
trembled like a thread
snow everything is fine
she is happier than the moon she does not have to wander about
among the dark clouds
she does not have to shine serenely
and slowly leave
she has obtained the permanence
of her existence by not existing ah
I forgot to say, thank you because your leaving
this world was too soon and too quiet a sigh
what is called permanence is transient
because it only exists inside me
in this finite inside
infinity that is a permanence is now
floating
ah full moon
please shine
on my beloved my mother
please flutter
like a spring breeze
quietly over the repose of her soul
like
drops of light
——————————
Kazuko Shiraishi
MY FLOATING MOTHER, CITY
New Directions 2009
translated from the Japanese by
Yumiko Isumura & Samuel Grolmes
Hillary Rodham Clinton and her mother, Dorothy Rodham, at a hotel in New York in 1992.
Ron Frehm/Associated Press
Story of Hillary Clinton’s Mother Forms Emotional Core of Campaign – NYTimes.com.
Seamus Heaney’s ‘When All the Others were Away at Mass’ has been chosen as Ireland’s best-loved poem
When all the others were away at Mass
In Memoriam M.K.H., 1911-1984
When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.
So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives –
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.
Seamus Heaney poem chosen as Ireland’s best-loved – RTÉ News.
Dedicated to the amazing poet, publisher, and editor Don Wentworth. With gratitude, DF
