If My Mother Was Here


A poem by Madhuri.

for Devadasi, 1917-2017
Fly in peace…

bluebells and alliums

If my mother was here
she’d say, “You look peculiar going out
in your jim-jams and a jacket!”
If my mother was here
She’d be right up with the hygiene,
surveying the situation
with an eager, eagle view –
If my mother was here
she’d go walking in the woods
crying, “Oh! The bluebells! The bluebells!
Look! And what are those white ones?
Look how lush they are!
It reminds me of the woods I knew
as a child!”
If my mother was here
she’d go off alone –
sit under a tree –
scribble in her notebook –
pensive, lyrical phrases
in among the partial, practical lists.
If my mother was here
she’d listen to the conspiracy folks
and say, “Oh yes! How awful! Of course, it must be like that!”
Then she’d listen
to the official version
and agree passionately
with that too.
If my mother was here
she wouldn’t have to shop –
it’d all be brought –
and she’d be amazed.
If my mother was here
there’d be things in her dark-browed thoughts
and in her heart
she’d not tell anyone.

But I can see her
here in this bluebell woods
skipping along like a faun –

May 2020, L-foot


Madhuri is a healer, artist, poet and author of several books, Mistakes on the Path being her latest memoir. madhurijewel.com

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