Monday, 4 April 2011

His Mother's Hands

The forest clasps him to her breast

With cold embrace of thorn
To slash his skin with scorn;

Her ivy bracelet of waxen pearl
Blisters deep his longing soul;

She sighs and cracks in arthritic pain
A requiem eternal to his shame.

Bryan D. Cook April 2011

Context for His Mother's Hands
Written as homework for a workshop with slam poet Ian Keteku, this poem reflects the feelings of somebody with a lack of maternal nurturing.It is not autobiographical as my mother,Jean Patricia Cook (nee Baker) was always nurturing and understanding. The forest is both allegorical and, sometimes for the me, real.

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