‘mother unplugged’, my ode to all mothers has been published on narratorAUSTRALIA. You can find it at http://www.narratoraustralia.com/2014/08/mother-unplugged-ramon-loyola.html
or just read it here:
for it is a time
when the wind has chilled her heart,
that the clocks have stopped,
and she can take a moment to get her bearings.
her dreams of long-ago days abandoned for the price of family,
she has stopped yearning for a prize that captures any glory.
the child forbids her to call out for fortune,
the pride of parenthood, though unheralded, her only fame.
what of this reality, she asks her faith?
no matter what she does, who she wakes up for,
each morning only brings the perils of the mundane.
no alms are forthcoming, she knows,
and it is for the best, she tells herself.
no dignity in the aid of the well-meaning,
only the morality of one’s own unmitigated comfort—
whether it is:
food to cook or clothes to iron,
dirty linen to wash or muddy floors to mop,
a screaming tot to cradle or a needy spouse to satisfy,
fresh laundry to hang or groceries to buy,
bills to pay or garbage to put out,
curtains to fix or rooms to tidy up,
a garden to water or a car to wash,
the weekend to plan or the budget to save for,
the daytime job to hold on to or the after-hour chores to do—
she takes on the honest stand of a woman-servant,
slave to her passions,
dreamer of lush.
and as the clock chimes to precision,
announcing her reality,
she takes a step back and looks in the mirror:
the heart to endure and the spirit to surge on?
too frozen inside to never be touched again
by the tender hands of fate and consequence.
outside the chambers, beyond the eyes,
the wind howls just as fiercely
as the desire rages within to keep her soul perfectly still,
lest a single gust cracks her hard icy state.
and she stands unwavering and ancient,
like a lighthouse at the edge of the cliff.
© 2014 Ramon Loyola