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Mother, The Lighthouse: Image by PIRO4D from Pixabay

How To Handle Noon Death Of The Lighthouse

A short poem

The lighthouse guides no one it seems
When it is sun’s shift to shine
It only comes alive at twilight
When eyes cannot define.

But what happens when a lighthouse dies
And the sun is at its hottest?
Big and small ships run amok
With no help in sight to right them.

A mother dies, and then what happens?
Her brood of adult children clash
And there’s nothing to do about it;
Except, pivot and wait for the turbulence to right them.

***

I believe that if you enjoyed this poem, you’d also like this one: The Smell of Home is Etched In Memory. Both poems reference Mother, who is/was The Lighthouse in this one.

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I Wish You Miracles

Selma Martin
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This Post Has 5 Comments

  1. dianekrausewriter

    This is a beautiful poem. Our Mothers are the light of our home. You’re quite the talent, Selma.

    1. Selma Martin

      Diane, you made me grow an inch with that remark. Thanks. I’m into poetry these days — more than usual— and I appreciate your support, sweet friend.
      Let me know how I can be of help to you and I’ll be there.
      (I’m feeling tons better now).
      You, be safe. I wish you miracles.

  2. rajkkhoja

    Beautiful words using in poem. Our mothers are the light of our house ..

      1. rajkkhoja

        Yes, me too .

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