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Against the odds of age, Mom has regained
her walk, her home, and her optimism.
She plans to live independently soon,
when we get out of the way and let her.
We, the guardians of weariness
and weakness, ask for more healing time.
Both my brother and I tried to rush
our own healing, only to have setbacks.
Rest, we say. Take your time. Restore your strength.
We are cheering for you. Like your Christmas
cactus—soak in the sun and drink water
sparingly, until your leaves lift and bud.
Mom is tired enough to accept our care.
We ask "Do you want help?" And help is there.
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
© 2023 Susan L. Chast
I resonate with "the guardians of weariness". And with the advice to slow down and heal slowly. We try to do too much and set ourselves back. You and your brother take such good care of your mother.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful and heartfelt poem. Your mom is amazing, and so are you!
ReplyDeleteThis poem feels warm and genuine - caring, love and the journey of healing oneself and others.
ReplyDelete