I became a mother,
my life upended
the way persistent rain today
has filled the watering can,
overturning it.
Doesn’t love seek love
always? My own mother held me
so close that I could hear her heart
echo alongside mine.
It is my mother’s heart
that beats through me for
my own son and daughters—
my plangent link, the cord
that still pulses.
This doesn’t mean not loving
you, dear Reader, or others, really.
The Greeks have seven words
for Love. Surely you know
Philia for friendship and Eros
for romantic passion.
What courses from my mother
to me to my children
is Storge, the unconditional
heartbeat for them, and Pragma,
committed and long-lasting.
Those feelings course and pool
and stream,
soaking their grounding
like today’s rain drenches
the garden soil
to green the parsley
and flush the lavender.
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
