Why I Cried...On Mother's Day

WHY I CRIED....ON MOTHERS'S DAY
***********************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour

I went to a Sunday Mass.
It was on Mother's Day.
Afterward, the priest said a special prayer,
and then he sang
a special Mother's Day song
from his native Nigeria.
Part of it in English,
part of it in his native tongue.
While all of this was happening,
I cried.

You see, the mother sitting next to me,
was not you, but merely
a dear family friend,
who was “almost” like a mother
to me... before and after you left.
Still, she was not you.
So, I cried.

I was told
you had been in a better place
these past two years.
“She's with the Holy Mother.”
So, I cried.

It would be just like you
to
discuss my sins...over tea
with the Mother of Christ.
I can almost here you
then pleading
with her omnipotent son.
“God, help him, since I am no longer able!”
So, I cried.


Well intentioned... Christians
told me...the tears I shed for your absence
were selfish, and against God's will.

Well, why shouldn't I cry?
If my tears are act of selfishness,
why shouldn't I be... selfish?
Who is God to tell me how to feel?
What does the omnipotent and omnipresent one know
of such grief?
HE died before HIS Mother,
and it was her who cried not HE!
And although mortal, HIS MOTHER
did not die. She was.....
ASSUMED
Swept up within a whirlwind of the Holy Spirit.
She bore a glorious glow upon her face,
A crown of twelve stars about her head,
and the moon at her feet. According to God's will.

My mother however,
had a face that bore a shade similar to your grey hair.
you left... one man at your head, the other at your feet.
They took you to... a man made oven
where
your earthly body would be de
and turned into...spiritual ashes and dust
According to... your will.
What right does God have
to give HIS Mother
such a glorious exit,
and mine...a lesser one?

Is it because HE IS GOD?
If so, please tell HIM
I think HE is selfish!
For such blasphemous anger,
I truly cry,

Still, I cannot help how I feel!
For... the immortal Jesus has HIS Holy Mary,
not only on Mother's Day, but every day.
Those are the very days
that the absence of my mother-my blessed Patricia
I as a mere mortal man
must constantly deal.

The Gardner and the Blossom

The Gardner and the Blossom
************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************
Writer's note: This poem is dedicated to my mother Particia Ann Seymour( Nee' Bollig)
(Aug 12,2008)
It was just recently, that…
I saw the white azaleas outside,
And thought of…
How dried and dead they looked.
So often like my own life,
Since she left me.
It happened following her special day.
It was almost a year ago,
That I last saw the azaleas outside.

Even alive and mixed
With others of red and pink,
And flowers of marigold,
I would not have been satisfied
When I had seen…
The white azaleas outside.

No gardener could adopt or love
Any flower,
The way that she adopted this flower
With her mixture of love, discipline and affection.
Just as she had done with those
That sprang and blossomed
From her own natural seed.
I recalled how much I missed
Her nurturing element,
When…
I saw the white azaleas outside,

The perfect gardener has ceased to exist,
Still, the spirit that she created
Within this cross-bred blossom
Will always persist.
So I know I see,
The white azaleas…inside
Of me.