Mother and abouth Mothers Poetry

'Before the Equal Rights Amendment failed'  timothy trgates,5,2015

(reflection on Mother in her-story)
after the women's suffrage movement,
only took from 1848-1920,
after the 19TH Amendment
(50 more years before women of darker pigment would be included)-
before most women worked, also, outside homes
when women's wages made today's disparity look desirable,
when women were marginalized in religions, politics,
and, yes, families,
when women were hit by spouses and you'd hear,
"wonder what she did to deserve it?"
(note, her cries, even screams, were heard, and ignored)-
some women married
some women cared for their family at home
some women cared for their family by working at home and outside
some women matriculated beyond high school
some of these women became scientists, doctors, 'professionals'
(few did, at best women were thought to make good secretaries and nurses)-
before the Equal Rights Amendment failed,
there were some people like my Mother, who
raised four chikdren (my Father working 6-7 days. 10 plus hours daily)
worked outside the home, typing 85 wpm without errors, serving in restaurants (4'10"", 87lbs.), selling door to door household products,
30plus years for a grocery store as cashier and department head,
tutored cousins in math to get through high school (all males)
tutored my Father's youngest brother in University -
such people never missed a brand concert, an individual performance,
volunteered for every school activity you were in,
were never seen flinching when you might be embarrassed by her
(teens, though she never showed embarrassment or disappointment),
stood in the way of a belt or hand coming your way,
always believed you could do better than her
(her best hard to be bettered)-
funny, my friends, of various gender, skin pigment, heritage, two who happened to be gay (latter 60's). no matter, she cared for like me.
she was not a political activist
or preacher
or professor
or inventor
or law maker.
She was a women, a person, without which
women would still be treated like property -
by living her life loving
her family
her country
her heritage
her womanhood
her neighbor.
Whatever criticism might be offered,
she was one hell-a-of person.
One name I knew her by, and remember:
Mother.

'April 9th, not again' or 'my Mother'  timothy r gates, April 7, 2015 **note below**

it poured down rain,
today,
April 9th, not again.
birthdays come and go,
then they stop.
all grown up,
yet a son is always a son,
no doubt why heaven's Son,
looking upon his Mother's dying,
just couldn't leave her alone.
some days your heart,
with dry sockets,
breaks out loud.
then you smile.
laugh.
Look away.
In a breath's silence
an angel's wings flutter. 

** Funny, what I miss:Every year talking through holiday plans and her lack of approval-you only take the time to do this with someone you love. When she disenfranchised me as an adult, and more. Hurting together. Disappointment made no sense from her when I was a teen. Another thing most,even family,don't know. I wasn't like most young boys, didn't have any aptitude for sports, I protested war(a teacher whispered,"if I ever see you out of school protesting I"ll kill you."-a WWII Vet.), protested inequality(she also came to appreciate this),and nearly stood alone in h.s. against the killing of the eight Kent State students (most probably changed their views in time.). I played trombone, guitar, wrote poetry, and also did some illegal things that were part of some places at the time -- yet, my Mother always supported me in these things(not the illegal), and let me know that this was normal, for me.

 

Blamed Mother until I knew better.
I didn't know how to move out of the way, either,
learned how not to speak. 
Funny, most always thought I said what was on my mind.
Well, once I could speak.
Blamed Father until he got better.
I didn't know how to block the visions,
learn new ones.
Blaming is the easy part,
forgiving, easy too. Love sees.
Forgetting, never,
never allow it to happen again,
in my ear, or eye sight.
Neither remember this well wrapped gift,
an illness healed when a child says, "No more."
Baptism's bath washes the outside. 
                        trg, 5/02/2015

'Mothers'                                             trgates, 5/9/2015
Thank you, Mothers:
Giving us birth
Loving us
Agreeing with us
Disagreeing with us
Getting ticked off with us
Weeping with us at our first broken heart
Saying stupid stuff at undesired times
Saying nothing when grief is swallowing you
Disappointing us
Disappoint was never a word used by her
Trying to protect us from all evil and harm
Never saying goodnight or goodbye without, "I love you."
Even a one unique son's mother wept at his death,
He could not leave her without help, or to die.
Thank you, Mother.
*****My Mother fell asleep to time and this space in 2014, the 22nd of this month. Firsts are just that. A month ago it was the 1st of not having a birthday, and this weekend will be the first Mother's Day without her. Funny, the things that only the fewest of people say to each other is what I hear within.
      At a time when most parents hated, and most forbid their teens, protests against the war, racial inequality, gender inequality, disabilities inequalities -- my Mother supported me, and my right to protest. She taught me that all people deserve to be loved, to love, to be heard, and live freely. By her repose she would speak up in behalf of all these.  She never treated me like something was wrong with me for not being normal. She loved my love of Art in all forms. Was she perfect, whatever that is? No more than me. Was she the best she could be over the years? Yes. "My Mother," I remember daily. 

'Mother of my oldest children'      trg,2015, only for Your Eyes

Piggy back through camp.
every time I look into your eyes I see her,
the one I fell in love.
That changed,
thought I would die.
Didn't. 
Every time I'd take you home,
then leave,
I'd break again driving home without you.
I know that you felt something like this too.
Every time I look into your children's faces,
I see yours, and hers.
Funny, can still feel that broken day.
Empathy, one of the many things,
an ironic gift I've received.
Also, a reason, I believe that I have empathy,
especially for my grandchildren.
This Mother, yours, died, now, I say,
in Blessed Repose, her memory is,
Memory Eternal.
As you miss her this Mother's Day,
remember that she baptized you with her love,
and this always immerses you.
Mother, of my oldest children.

 

'Mother, Grandmother, my Wife'     trg,2015,for your eyes(not on FB)

the moon reflects the Sun,
so I mirror your light.
Jesus' Mother, always his Mother,
he, always her Son.
our children always first think of you,
my mother,
making sure that all things needed are attended. 
yes, you've allowed me to be me,
to your chagrin,
making sure their father is here.
soon you'll be a Grandmother,
no doubt making sure all things needed are attended. 
Mother, Grandmother, my Wife,
all true.
yet it is you, the person I fell in love,
without which none of this would be.

 

'Firsts, then nexts'                    5/16/2015

said goodbye, "yes, Mother it's time."
next day, first day without
calls of aggravation, rehearsal of times past, without.-
those things you, and her only know.
first thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays
first grandchild, soon, she, and he, won't meet. Here.
first birthday not realized
first birthday not shared, no out to eat time,
hers, last month. Mine, this one.
first Mother's Day where it's a present memory. 
I intone "Memory Eternal."
glad for her Blessed Repose,
hearing Vechnaya' Pamyat in my heart's mind,
prayer of silence,
many words give way to none.
Eonia i mnimi,
whispers,
others sing with me.
Together we sing love's melody,
without noting a time line.
Memory Eternal.