I once had a really bad dream, wherein i was going through the day, with everyone telling me and constantly reminding my mother was gone. I really couldn’t even make it 5 minutes through that dream either. I really empathize with those who’ve lost their mothers or even have to live far and away from them for long whiles. I recognize the kind of place my mom holds in my life. I really put no-one above her. Imagine losing her someday, pretty hard to imagine too. A friend of mine and a new member to our little creative writings blog took it to a deeper thought and wrote a ballad about a man, who’d lost his mother, but couldn’t bear with giving her away..
with the thought in her mind she writes about the man quoting..
“A Requiem- A son’s anthem to his mother”
There, In the dull, unpretentious coffin, his mother lay,
The woman– this taxidermist had worshiped night and day.
With tears in his eyes, he sat, desperate with despair,
From this beloved woman he could not himself tear.
Oh! How she would laugh when he regaled her with stupid tales,
And how she would protect him come rain or hail.
When he was scared at night, beside him she would sit,
When came the cold, lovely warm sweaters she would knit.
In sickness did she nurse him, she would cook for her sweet child,
To the world she was stern, but to him, she was mild.
Her hair smelled like happiness and her hands had so much love to hold,
Bu, alas! Now in the coffin she lay, quiet and cold.
If others get to know, they’ll come to take her away,
Solitary, under the green sods then Oh! How would she lay.
He thought with anguish of how she loved him, how he was her glory,
So he made up his mind to change the usual mourning story!
He now preserved his dead mother with wood, wool and wire.
He froze her and tanned her lifeless body with blazing fire.
He now mounted her like the mannequin and balanced her with harness,
So there she stood with glass eyes- looking alive though quite lifeless.
Alas! The man didn’t know how to separate from his dead mother,
For the only person he ever had was her, he had except her, none other.
He could talk and talk for hours at a stretch, but, mute would she even smile?
I wish we would love our mothers enough when they’re with us the while.