Theo’s Mother

Wizened and black I rocked and thought – another age

Past, and all our heroes over. Gone are they; hung down

Like withered creepers purple and yellow still.

I heard – I think – the voice of a hot tired woman

With dust on her skirts calling through the window;

Telling me what doors the mind has. Open them all:

All doors: all windows until the draught blows

A whirlwind in the flood.

•

This Sister had old feet in black shoes. She was the one

The only one, saw woman as the mother of daughters.

When I was baptised she called me Anna – mother of one daughter.

Arm in arm we walked; between us small black Theo

Sulky in white – we meant to bind her God’s.

•

Oh God I know I shouldn’t have brought her up to learning

Last week she was married in town with cakes and carpets,

White forks and tripping dainty girls in heels.

Mother of humanity! I said – Theo I’ll bless you

Set a wand in your hand – What did she do?

She lifted up that hand and laughed behind it

(I heard her). Sniggered like a wild girl at Sister’s big black feet.

•

Well, what can a mother do?

I’m far too old to curse her.