A Mother’s Love
By Paul Schlieben
She loves simply and quietly.
She keeps love in check,
lest it burn her heart to ash.
Where stress is the third rail of my existence,
Love is hers.
Her love is trapped in a cage of fear.
Mostly, it sits quietly.
Sometimes it crashes against the bars,
demanding to be heard,
or it watches mutely, fearfully,
informed by the wisdom of years,
suffering in our foolishness,
afraid giving voice to her fears
Will drive us away,
Hoping for an improbably outcome
As we crash into obstacles
only she was able to see.
Softly she cries out, anguished,
fearing her cries be misinterpreted as anger,
but is that so unusual?
A mother’s love is often foolishly misread,
except by her.
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