This poem is a tribute to my Mum who I would be lost without
Her soft hands comb back my hair,
As I position myself in the
Arms of safety, on her lap
I close my eyes,
As the brush goes up
Then back down, brushing out all the lies,
All the knots and the tangles,
All the problems and the fears.
This magic being brushes everything away,
Leving me free and knotless,
Bringing me back to me.
These times on her lap are treasures to me,
Each detangling of my knotted life,
A gem in my collection.
But gems stop coming
When the source fades away,
When my magic being,
Did not come home one day.
No longer was there someone to brush
Away my fears and my problems,
To deknot my life,
And bring me back to me.
No lap of safety to enclose in,
No soft hands to comb back my hair,
No times to treasure,
And no more gems to make.
No more magic being to be
The magic in my life.
