Looking into the eyes of strangers
I sometime find myself praying to
see their approval.

I wonder if what I say
makes sense and if
they seem to validate me
I proceed.

I am at my level best
when I lose sight of
the fact that everyone
has their drama.

When the passion
from which I speak rises
unabated by self doubt or
second thought, I can
touch people where they live.

This I feel is all that I truly
have to share in this work.
Sometime that's enough.
Sometime it's not.
So it goes.

She's older then I remember
and somehow so fragile.

Still she smiles
and shares happily
with the people she encounters.

Of all the traits I most admire
her willing smile.
Her gentle spirit
remains her deepest mystery.

My mother is a happy woman.
She sits immoblized
by the ravages of stroke
yet still she smiles.

Her mind isn't what it
was yet, still still she smiles.
My mother's greatest
gift to me is a sense
that things are never
really too bad.

You live your life
and do whatever you do.

Thank you mother.
As I struggle to interpret
all that you have given me
I pray that I too shall one day
share the eternal joy that rules
inspite of all our earthly foibles.

Thank you mother
for being you.