—for my children I see her doing something simple, paying bills, or leafing through a magazine or book, and wish that I could say, and she could hear, that now I start to understand her love for all of us, the fullness of it. It burns there in the past, beyond my reach, a modest lamp.
Copyright © 2011 by David Young. Reprinted from Field of Light and Shadow with the permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.
Date Published: 2011-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/mothers-day