The Maternal Voice

[Delta40]

Against the warnings of a maternal voice
my mother walked
across the thin ice
of a frozen lake.

We all seek an island in the middle
where birds will nest.

Against the warnings of a maternal voice,
she plunged downward
stared,
upward
from her temporary tomb.

We all hope a hand will appear
to wrench us back to the surface.

Against the warnings of a maternal voice,
I was born on the fringe
dangling like a unwanted tassle
from my grandmother's sampler.

[miyako73]

I see you are still producing quality poems. Keep it up. Your stuff is a great welcome for someone who had been away.

[Charles Darnay]

I am amazed that something so cold could be so emotional: a sure sign of quality in writing.

[AuntShecky]

Another frozen gem from Delta. I know the poem springs from your imagination, but I'm curious about the reality of your homeland --do lakes actually freeze over in winter (which I realize is "our" summer)? Just yesterday in my neck o' the woods, the ice on a local lake and three ice-fishermen almost bought it. Happens often every year.

Back to your piece: the central metaphor, implying notions of breaking through ice and slipping underneath the surface, is an apt one. The closing simile about the tassel comes from an entirely different place, but rather than "mixing" images, somehow works.

[Jerrybaldy]

Against the warnings of a maternal voice


I love this line and its deserved repetition.

I think you could scrap the final stanza. The metaphor is already complete.

Hope all is well with you. x

[Delta40]

Apart from lying in a hospital bed, tubes coming out of everywhere and one less kidney, I'm fine

Auntie it does snow here so frozen lakes are a goer. Where I live there is no such thing. I'm glad you like my poem