Mother Daughter

Look into my heart,

First person you’ll find,

Is a row home-raised girl,

My playmate through Time.

Imagining stroking her raven-black hair,

Whispering secrets in her cockle-shell ears,

Holding her tightly,

When I knew she was scared.

This twinkling, bright, and inquisitive Star,

Thoughtful, fearful, undervalued by far,

Grew to a woman,

In a home marred by war.

She bewitched a bonny sailor,

So her dreams could unfurl,

She left Philadelphia,

No longer a girl.

Mighty her labor,

To give birth to the three,

She taught them of birds,

And of soil and trees.

She made gardens and meals,

And tough business deals,

She gave them the best,

That her two hands could yield.

With her stalwart mate,

She roamed the wide world,

Ever-lasting asking,

Finding Mother-of-Pearl.

Observer, learner,

Searcher for lights,

She soldiers ahead,

Seeking meaning in night.

On cold winter nights,

I scan starry skies,

The Pleiades are there,

Seven sisters on high.

Brave Asterope,

Has sent us Estelle,

From the ancient tongue: Stellar,

This is her name as well.

Persian princess, keen traveler,

Storm-tossed girl, my own sylph,

Estelle is my mother,

My first other self.

Paula Lyons, MD

9/18/2006