My Mother

Writing about my mother quietens the heart.

It is easy to romanticize my father's life in words since his journey has been filled with conquests and adventures that can readily be put into words. His words are powerful, full of wisdom and his life- BOLD. I have in store within the recesses of my soul words boundless for the powerful life my father lived as well as the love he had for me that sustains me when my mind fails to believe.

But how does one write about a deep love, a quiet gentle affection, that of the breeze that whistles not but puts you into sleep in her arms of inner peace and boundless security. It is a firm knowing like that of an unmovable mountain that will never reject a lightning that can strike it or a river that can cut it.

How does one write about a mother when tears of affection and boundless love makes you close your eyes in gratitude and breathe in a love only an infant in the womb can whisper of. How can one put into words the hunger appeased and the sadness wiped away from your eyes before you can ask of it. It is a quiet yet powerful life sustaining energy that can only be felt. The words are the gurgles of the flow of blood in the umbilical cord that no knife can sever for lifetimes. Can you describe listening to your mother's breath in the womb reverberating in your body and her voice rocking you to certainty of survival.

A mother's love is like the moist mist that wraps you entirely and penetrates you as you breathe it in. It is like raindrops, little by little, seeping into the ground to prepare the flowers to blossom. It is the sun's soft rays that warms you, embraces you and will protect you from the cold. It is the ground that holds you from falling, it carries you and it is always with you.

Can one write about the air, the water, the fire and the earth that surrounds you and lives within you. It has taken poets centuries to take a glimpse of its immensity and vastness, it's silence and loudness. One can not truly capture that which is perennial, and yet so fairy like magical. It is also, however, the strongest most primordial energy in existence.

One can never take for granted that loving glance that can take you through years of self-trust and faith. One can never take for granted that gentle kiss on your cheek upon waking up which can take you through a series of heartbreaks. One can never take for granted sleeping beside a warm soft body that wraps you in a deep knowing of belonging, and that which can take you through the harsh realities of failure and rejection. How can one put these in words?

How can one hear a mother's voice of sympathy bursting from a heart breaking with empathy. As you gaze into those eyes, can you fathom her desire of taking away your pain? Can you hold her hands and ever convince her to let you go and not to follow you in your depths of darkness. As she walks away, can you truly see which directions she is heading? She only enters your heart and wishes never to leave. She will only penetrate further until it reaches your children's heart and your children's children.

Can one truly write quotes of a mother's words. Her words are in her voice, that you hear even when you cover your ears. It is in the pauses, as she takes deep breaths wondering whether she needed to talk at all or just hold you tight.

However, one can neither hear nor read about a mother's thoughts and feelings. It will be an impossible feat, though I get glimpses of it, when I see the light of the sun penetrating my eyes even when it is close. I get glimpses of it, when I hear my heart beating in the silence of the night. I get glimpses of it when I find my daughter's little hands gently cupped on my cheek while she is asleep.

It is only in a glimpse that I can visit my mother's heart. It is also only in a glimpse that my daughter can touch into the eternity of my love. But we can visit that place together in a gaze, in a touch, in a whisper...