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Poetry | August 2011

His Mother Speaks

By Marilyn Cavicchia

Sometimes another boy will play with him,
and then, though his face is made of stone,
a suggestion of eyes and nose, no mouth at all,
I know he is happy, because I am his mother
and mothers know these things.

He and the other boy go down the slide,
jostling and tussling like any two boys,
and I thank the other parent, a dad,
for letting my son play with his son,
and he tells me That’s OK, like this is
all perfectly normal, and the dad’s face,
his readable, human face, tells me he
believes this, that there’s nothing wrong
with my son, no reason he shouldn’t
find a friend other than me
or the boxes and cans
in his favorite kitchen cabinet.

Later, I will stroke my son’s face,
this smooth mystery I’ve loved,
as tears move through me
like water through a wall.

4 replies on “His Mother Speaks”

Sarahsays:
August 8, 2011 at 1:40 pm

Lovely and loving poem. Beautiful.

Reply
katiesays:
August 8, 2011 at 5:03 pm

The depth and beauty of a mothers love are captured in this poem; while reading I could feel the burst of love and the tremors of sadness. Thanks for sharing.

Reply
Aline says:
August 8, 2011 at 7:37 pm

Gorgeous.

Reply
Ilene Martinsays:
August 10, 2011 at 6:07 am

Chills ran through me; what a beautiful moment.

Reply

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