IN PASSINGSometimes Mom in passingWould pat you on the backAnd sometimes in passingShe’d show you the right track.Sometimes Mom in passingWould say, “You sure look nice!”And sometimes in passingShe could, make you, think twice.Sometimes Mom in passingWould lightly touch your hairAnd sometimes in passingShe’d show you what was fair.Sometimes Mom in passingWould ask, “What do you mean?”And sometimes in passingShe would get in between.Sometimes Mom in passingWould give you, “that look”And sometimes in passingWould give you what it took.But this time, Mom is passingFrom this world to the bestAnd this time in passingShe’ll pass the final test.And when Mom has passedAnd the pain is so unkindJust look and you’ll find herThere in your heart and mind.Submitted By: Del “Abe” Jones

I see you working hard for meAnd wonder what it means:Whether I will do the sameAnd give up my own dreamsTo offer someone else my world,A stranger from my womb,And say: Here, take my life,So you, not I, can bloom.I often wonder at the depthOf that cool sacrifice;I know it can’t be “just because,”Or simply to be nice.It is so awesome, I can’t thinkHow I could make that choice,Except I see something in youThat gives my own heart voice.I see sometimes a happinessAmid the stressedout dayThat no one else can hope to knowIn any other way.I feel it when you look at meAnd understand sometimesThat things I do, I do for two,And then your hard life shines.And when I give you grief, I knowThat all the bitter painBetween a mom and growing childIs simply like the rainThat alternates with sunny days,Passion without end,While underneath is more of lifeThan we can comprehend.And then I know, perhaps, why ILike you might be so movedTo give my life to someone else,And know that I have loved.

I’m sorry I can’t tell you whatI’m sure you’d rather hear,But there’s a burden in my heartI can no longer bear.There’s an anger I must crossBefore I come to youAnd make my peace with who you are,And try your soul anew.I know I wasn’t what you wantedWhen you wanted me,A healthy, happy baby girlYou could raise easily.I was born impaired, and youHave never understoodThat what I am is whole and fairAnd beautiful and good.You were sorry, first for meAnd then for you, and wept,But I would not be me withoutThe fact that I am deaf.I am a gift to celebrateAnd not a cause to grieve.As a child this was whatI needed to believe.I needed but a different roadTo reach the common goal,But you decided there were thingsI couldn’t do at all.And rather than accept what lifeHad given in its grace,You looked at what life had withheldAnd turned from its embrace.Ah, Mother! How you injured meBy what you would not own!To love myself I had to leaveAnd make my way alone,And have my children in the courseOf what I would become,But always, always looking backTo where I had no home.