Wednesday, 23 May 2012

PIETÀ











It was you entirely.
You who taught
the singular mansion
of love, to me: your child,
your boy who nervously
sat still in a sea of convention.

Your Basilica beads were not
for Mary’s crushed child alone.
There was a foetus in that womb,
as you glanced at the Immaculate.

His breathless marble pin-ribs lanced
our muting love in teary-rued cheeks
for what should’ve been high horns.

O mother of earthly care,
how will I heal the doctor
that heals with a heart?

How will I assure the poor
and the rich alike for all
your general and licensed
good?

9 comments:

  1. For me an intriguing meditation that expresses their attachment - as a model for any mother-child relationship like the one you hint at - so well, and our hopes on transcendental powers. The whole relationship mesh between those five (if I counted right) culminates in the great central stanza. (I don't know the literal meaning of "high horns", however.) A truly captivating poem!

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  2. You honed in on the many-layered joys of a mother-son relationship (which I adore, being the mother of a son with a three year old son) and magnified the inherent attributes to offer nurture, love, care to the world. Smartly written, emotionally and intellectually engaging.

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  3. Such inspired writing, Matthew, deeply moving.

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  4. A moving and beautiful write Matthew! :-)

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  5. I felt like I was floating along with this story. Touching though I'm not even sure in what ways. This requires a reread or two.

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  6. I created a link for your blog in mine. I hope that is all right.

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  7. oh, i love this! absolutely stunning!

    thank you so much for participating at Poetry Jam!


    dani

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  8. A wonderful tribute to the love between parent and child.

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