Mother Flame

fireplace altered

She took the edge off a biting chill
warmed our home with no whiff of fireworks
consuming scant resources for her efforts 

Her flame housed within confinements
of her era, class, her gender and background
danced with unique passion within ‘her place’ 

Not a doting Donna Reed type
nor an activist burning her bra
she stayed close to kindle career and family 

Mostly her heart burned lightly
deferring to others, keeping the peace
but she needed space to breathe and create 

If too constrained her sparks would combust
to blaze with wildfire power
scorching all she touched along her path 

Her flame has been extinguished now
for almost twenty years
but her spirit continues to radiate in my heart

Respect the power of Mother Flame
respect her fervor and her fury
she’ll fill your hearth and heart with warmth
long after embers die

I dedicate this poem to my mother on the 39th birthday of my first born child.

Thanks to my friend, Penny, who gave me the prompt which inspired this poem.

Graphic is an altered version of an illustration by louda2455 courtesy of Pixabay

 


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