The Wings of a Wren


in memory of my mother on this sacred Mother’s Day

Read my post “In praise of Battered Books” for more on how my mother influenced my love of reading..

The Wings of a Wren

I kneel

she lifts her bare foot to me

the skin like parchment

on which is written

in flourishes of violet

the calligraphy of her eighty eight years

a girl with wind tossed hair

picking blueberries

on the craggy Maine coast

a feather boa of fog

the smell of creosote soaked pilings

and the calliope carousel music on the Santa Monica Pier

the bearing and birth of seven infants

one born still…ashen, silenced

blood, water, wonder

the Nautilus spiraled pain of loving too much

veins run rampant

like rivers gone wild

overflowing their borders

breaking madly into rivulets

She falls for the first time

walking across the suddenly too wide street

to the 7 Eleven

She falls for the second time

unable to rise

her morning coffee growing cold on the kitchen counter

She falls for the third time

calling out in a voice

as clear and fragile as glass

I fit the shoe onto her foot

and help her stand

her arms as light and hallow as the wings of a wren

she clings to me

as if I could keep her earth bound

donna burke esgro








2 thoughts on “The Wings of a Wren

  1. Wow! A dynamic, sensitive expression of emotions and love. It brought tears to my eyes as I lost my Mommy {yes, I still call her Mommy, lol!} to cancer in 2008.

    I took care of her and it was a personal experience, that was heart-wrenching, yet I am honored and feel blessed to have been there for her. She laughed, as we have a Jamaican saying, “Once a man, but twice a child.” As my Mommy said that she had become my baby. So out of love and respect, I nicknamed her, “My Baby-Girl” – to be handled gently, with extra love and care, like that of a newborn babe…Your poem touched a very special place in my soul. Thank You. And “Happy Mother’s Day” to you. “Namaste & One Love”

    Liked by 1 person

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