Kevin Michael Bloor

the mother who I used to know

The mother who I used to know

has melted like November\'s snow.

And now she seems to simply be

somebody else\'s memory:

 

an echo they had heard at school,

a voice that kept them calm and cool

while they were taken in and taught

and trained to think like others thought.

 

The mother who\'s no longer there

to answer plea, of son, or prayer

can sometimes glow and glide like ghost

on days when she is missed the most.

 

For sometimes, spectres waste a word.

(The dead can speak; it’s not absurd!)

When fate is fair and love is blind,

The cold and cruel can still be kind!