Paul Schneiter Poet Rhyme

Where

Sweet Mother, “Where are you”? I ask each day.
I know about the cemetery, stone, and vault.
But where are you, where does your spirit stay?
Where is your tenderness that knew no fault?

Yes, I understand, the casket lid was shut tight.
But where rests love unrestrained that I knew?
Where is the softness that made everything right?
Where is the warmth I felt through and through?

True, your obituary clearly told of your leaving
But that was an obligation to social convention.
It is for the essence of you that I’m still grieving.
There must be a sacred place in this dimension.

Sweet Mother, “Where are you”? I ask each night.
Where are the laurels you lavished on your son?
Where is your assurance we were alive in holy light?
Your body is empty, but heaven’s answers will come.

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Kp Nunez May 16, 2015 at 6:54 PM An emotive piece. Your love and longing for your mother can be felt in each line, Paul. Very good. I agree with Catie, it is the believer's assurance. Kim Paul Schneiter May 16, 2015 at 7:35 PM Thank you, Kim. The analyses of you and Catie are correct—and astute. I'm unable to be clinical about my Mother. I cannot permit myself to believe I will never see her again—yes, "the believer's assurance." Excellent, insightful comment.

Lindsay Laurie May 16, 2015 at 3:27 AM G'day Paul... nice solemn poem Paul. Family tend to live within us only to disappear when a new unknowing generation takes over. Family memories are the fondest thing that we keep - thank you Paul - Lindsay Paul Schneiter May 16, 2015 at 2:38 PM Lindsay, thank you. Nothing matters more than family, and memories of those who have left us are, indeed, "the fondest thing that we keep." And maternal love is the most powerful force in the world; there is nothing that is its equal (there I go preaching again).