Mother's Smile Poem by Michael Burch

Mother's Smile
by Michael R. Burch

for my wife, Elizabeth Harris Burch, and my mother, Christine Ena Burch

There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than 'much.'

So more than 'much, ' much more than 'all.'
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.

There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,

then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you!



Dawn
by Michael R. Burch

for all good mothers

Bring your peculiar strength
to the strange nightmarish fray:
wrap up your cherished ones
in the golden light of day.

Amen



Delicacy
by Michael R. Burch

for all good mothers

Your love is as delicate
as a butterfly cleaning its wings,
as soft as the predicate
the hummingbird sings
to itself, gently murmuring—
'Fly! Fly! Fly! '
Your love is the string
soaring kites untie.



Love has a gentle grace
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth on Mother's Day

Love has a gentle grace;
you have not seen her
unless you've looked into your mother's eyes
and seen her faith
—serene, composed and wise—
that you're the center of her very being
(as once, indeed,
she carried you inside.)

Love has no wilder beauty than the thought
that you're the best of all she ever sought.

(And if, perhaps, you don't believe my song,
can your mother be wrong?)



Such Tenderness
by Michael R. Burch

for the mothers of Gaza

There was, in your touch, such tenderness—as
only the dove on her mildest day has,
when she shelters downed fledglings beneath a warm wing
and coos to them softly, unable to sing.

What songs long forgotten occur to you now—
a babe at each breast? What terrible vow
ripped from your throat like the thunder that day
can never hold severing lightnings at bay?

Time taught you tenderness—time, oh, and love.
But love in the end is seldom enough...
and time? —insufficient to life's brief task.
I can only admire, unable to ask—

what is the source, whence comes the desire
of a woman to love as no God may require?




The Greatest of These...
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christina Ena Burch

The hands that held me tremble.
The arms that lifted
fall.

Angelic flesh, now parchment,
is held together with gauze.

But her undimmed eyes still embrace me;
there infinity can be found.
I can almost believe such unfathomable love
will reach me, underground.



Arisen
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch

Mother, I love you!
Mother, delightful,
articulate, insightful!

Angels in training,
watching, would hover,
learning to love
from the Master: a Mother.

You learned all there was
for this planet to teach,
then extended your wings
to Love's ultimate reach...

And now you have soared
beyond eagles and condors
into distant elevations
only Phoenixes can conquer.

Amen


Published as the collection 'Mother's Smile'