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To My Mother -Died at ninety one

Poetry By: donkylemore
Classics


my mother was a scientist who never lost sight of her religion . Her God was supreme. And no matter how lucid became her understanding of the great mysteries of time and space and mathematical contradictions , she always held to the belief that we should never get about out station in assuming that everything is there for the understanding. Its not like Mount Everest - because its there - you climb and conquer it . Not like that at all.
There were more mysteries and conundrums than we are even capable of articulation in a one dimensional language.

This is where her she defined the borders of what needed to be understood and that which never would.
Her mind was much more acutely attuned to the knowledge of science than mine, and her understanding of the ineffable much more vast, she believed is simple certainties of Catholiscism.
She believed that God was embodied within the host that lay in the tabernacle of the altar , other than when it was put in the monstrance for the holy hour of adoration in our church .

And if she prayed alone in that church ; she would wait till someone else came in and took up the vigil.
She didn't like to leave the Lord alone.

Now she 'knows ' everything...or maybe ... just maybe .
In this picture there is just the slightest greening of a bud... the indomitable urge of nature to endure the sub zero temperatures that are still frosted on the little twigs in the hanging basket


Submitted:Jan 3, 2010    Reads: 82    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   




Into the swirling chaos of that early universe
As it took shape , and matter and anti matter vied
For a place , when particles of matter were taking shape
From the billion nuclear explosions taking place
Which together would not even light
A votive candle in the tiniest corner of
Our world , and all it holds

When time and space were ineffable ,
Inseparable and co-dependent

When there was no when ; just after the 'where'
But there was the 'why ' ;
Which was a much more pressing
A question by far;
Than the 'how.'
But no mind was created yet
To agonise about that heavenly conundrum.


In these early days of this New year
Under the frostbitten skies
As clear as a dome of purple hues,
Punctuated with a million pinprick leaks of flickering silver .
I see my own reflected folly and stupidity from the glorious canopy,
Grappling with these same puzzles

And having some more understanding
I can only see more clearly the vastness of the complexity
And can only marvel anew at each newborn creature
Fashioned in the likeness of its progenitor.

And the turning of our planet back again
From out the black winter of its southerly descent
Gives me hope anew and lifts the desolation and bleakness of the soul
Because I was gifted from my mother that bequest
To anticipate , without , hopefully that tendency
Of presumption ;
And with her faith , without that temerity
To assume that I deserve omnipotence
But just the contentment she left with her passing


When she finally passed away at ninety one

On this day .
Six years ago today.
Dear Mother , my dear Mother

Now . Now ! you know.
At last










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