Mother’s Eyes

(this is a post about our humanity and is not political!!)


Taking children from their parents is what is happening at this time and place in the United States. It bothers me terribly. I think about the loss of my own two parents over the last ten years. The grieving is done. There is still a place in my mind and heart that will always miss them. My parents were in my life for over 50 years.

I remember lying in bed at night as a babe thinking,” what would I ever do if I lost either one of my parents!?”

I would cry alone at night. Maybe this is what we all go through as children in our imagination? A reality for many children now in our country!!

Yesterday my oldest son came home from his third week from his new job. I ran and greeted him outside. Under the olive tree I looked into his eyes and smiled. We talked and he was happy to have the weekend off.

His eyes were a beautiful green. I remember that color! The same color as my mother’s eyes.

As a mother it is a wonder to see my mother’s face echoing in my son’s face!

I wrote a poem for my mother about her eyes. I would like to share.

Entitled Mother’s Eyes. Written 12/87.

Something in my mother’s eyes

told me something more!

Something in her wondering words

as we walked downstairs

Passing the front door.

Her eyes, her eyes!!

Her peace,

I felt,

She talked of crystals as spiritual,

She talked about protecting and caring

for her son and another son’s wife

I saw her and felt her smell the roses L’Amour.

I drive away from her

going to a place

she has visited before

I wondered about a ghostly her

that I never saw before.

In her eyes, her eyes

green crystals

dulled and well-rounded

as pupils are

I almost started crying

seeing the wet tears

which never left

the whites of her eyes.

Her eyes, her eyes

told me something more

then the simple room there knew

Her eyes told me of new feelings

which words can’t capture

and fear brings in its true meaning.

Her eyes and fear and lots of love

could it be I’m capturing?

her soul shape

a dove?

The little secrets she threw my way,

silly me,

I bet she knows me

past, present, and future days.

I don’t know whether to be happy or cry,

All because of her eyes, her eyes.

Oldest son had an invisible friend that soon disappeared as he grew up. “Beek Owl” was a large bird that watched over him and talked to him. I tried to capture Beek’s image as son described him. We did not have much back then to create with. Some cardboard and a few watercolors for arty farty projects. I made a stencil of Beek Owl so I could always remember him.

“Beek Owl is winking at me,” happily declared my young son!