mother's day leftovers

i.

the savory pungence of the daughter's cooking

still lingers all over the house.
'faith of our mothers'
indeed...

most days faith has
nothing to do with it
and everything to do with just hanging on.

and here we were laughing

while so many dire things threaten... 

here i am, required to live
all the way through the smooth silky easy
minutes and hours and days

in a stone and mortar house
under the oak trees,
with these memories,

to make meaning
in the work of my soul

ii.

and across the way is another one like me

in the subsaharansomeplaceorother...

with no lesser thing to marvel, nor is

mothering any more or less poignant or beautiful, 

nor the smell of cookery by younger hands

a sweeter more savory memory

so i look far far far and

her look comes back

with the same knowing 

how it all just is
and the deep goodness of it
the way we are made