Tony Bush Poet I do not know?

Motherland

Love, my chariot phantasm rattled dust off time's 
Shuttered veil, a slow reveal of the eight year span, 
And then sped farther back, espying an 
Earlier epoch when life it seems began. Where 
I, fixed gaze upon the wildflower waif 
In the ochre breast of timber, 
Dreamed your goddess face. 

Warm, a Summer kiss planted on my nervous 
Gaiety, a catalyst endemic and profuse, 
Entangled wishes with the yarn she 
Would exactly reproduce. Acutely, 
I, knowing perfection, the essence of the pristine, 
The weave of sainted care, 
Adored your gracious hands. 

Then, the whirling dervish dog-time thief imposed 
A premature sanction upon the life of bliss, 
Languid slabs of sadness, gestures profound 
Yet frail and feeble hugs and ice-dry kiss. Thus, 
I, effusing tears for the passing of her beauty 
In night encroached by sable, 
Mourned your fond farewell. 

Unbroken, ceaseless catechisms, paragraphs prayer- 
Laden, a wealth of precious keep sakes she rains from above 
For me and mine, to life enhance, 
To forge the bonds of mother love. And 
I, enlightened of her undying presence 
Feel her close at hand, waiting to someday hold me again 
In her motherland.

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