there is no “ is ” , mother
not an “ is ”
that implies the
inevitability of a “ was ”
for no matter how our rock unapologetically
turns its back
to the sun,
in perpetual centrifuge
( only to re-address the sun as if it has a fresh
new purpose or agenda )
and no matter any calendar’s cold,
insistently strict
f i n a l i s m
your day is every always day.
and when I take that for granted,
when I forget to “check in”
it is only because you have raised me to be a person of many interests, learnings, leanings, and capabilities,
consequentially a person of a great many distractions,
all fueled by your
hope love support.
today “ is ” mother’s day, as “ is ” tomorrow and always,
not “ was ” , by tomorrow .
your love — perpetually heaven-sent sun —
warming this rock, me,
feeding me, lighting my way, even
when my back is turned, “ busy” .