Sunday, July 3, 2016

Mother Prayer

My mother broke her heart in two
and handed both halves to me.
She didn’t know what to say,
just handed me the pieces,
warm and full of her life’s blood.
It was all she had to give
and all I ever needed.

In the darkness of her womb
I learned to play with rainbows.
I grew in the cradle of her love.
Her body housed ghosts, too.
Many phantoms haunted her.
They hid in the chambers
of her miraculous heart.

I was born afraid of them,
--determined to be the exorcist.
But I, mere mortal, failed to heal her heart.

now her body returns to Mother Earth,
and her soul
flies to the Angels of Mercy and Light.
She rests against the infinite heart of Mary.

And I am here
holding her heart
worn thin with use—
I hold it inside of me,
wishing I could have satisfied the Divine
with my heart instead.
It’s younger.
It’s stronger.
It beats like any other
even if it’s in pieces too.

I’ve tried melding it back together with tears.
I hollow it out with wailing.
I let it beat.
But I have to let go.

Broken or healed.
Absolved or not,
the race awaits me.
Mom, I promise I’ll jump back in
and run and run and run
out-pacing the specters
until I break the speed limit of joy
and make both our hearts whole again.

Mother Prayer, a poem composed and read by Amy Douglas, presented at the 1stUUPB Sunday service, July 3, 2016.

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