From A First-Born: A Mother`s Day Tribute
\nJoe E. Trull<\/p>\n
First-born she was from a clan of twelve,
\nemerging from a Bowl of Dust
\non rural Indian plains
\nonce trod by proud nations now dispersed.<\/p>\n
Second-mother she was to the
\nbrood of chicks her mother bore.
\nYet from that furrowed farm she gazed beyond
\nthe fields of grain toward a better land.<\/p>\n
And in that fearsome world of lights and sounds,
\na world where milk-maids seldom trod,
\nshe built a life,
\nand met a man,
\nand soon her own first-born was cradled in her arms.<\/p>\n
While singing lullabies to her child
\nshe promised him a better life-
\nhe too would find a better land.<\/p>\n
Yet strange to her this first-born child
\nclaimed to hear another voice-
\nclaimed to see another city distant in the skies.<\/p>\n
And so in time he left her land on a quest
\nto find a place for him long-planned
\nby distant urges she had scarcely felt.<\/p>\n
Oh me," she cried
\nas she watched him go,
\nwondering if this Don Quixote knew his way.<\/p>\n
He was sure; she was not!<\/p>\n
Three decades now have passed.
\nOn her back she lies-
\nA place she always dreaded.
\nTotally dependent on others-
\nto feed her
\nbathe her
\ntend her every need.<\/p>\n
"Oh me" she uttered with her eyes,
\nwords her numb lips could not frame.<\/p>\n
Her first-born came to tend her needs-
\nthe end was near.
\nHe held the dropper to her lips,
\nWhat little liquid she could take
\nwas measured in centimeters.<\/p>\n
Almost choking,
\nagain she looked into her first-born`s eyes
\nand without words she spoke
\nher common commentary,
\n"Oh me,"<\/p>\n
He saw it,
\nthis so wise preacher-son of hers
\nwho wondered in his weaker moments
\nwhy the God he worshipped
\nwould not stop the pain-hers or his.<\/p>\n
He knew her thoughts
\nand shared her sense of helplessness.
\nAs he bent down to turn her body,
\nshe shook her head in disbelief.<\/p>\n
This Pioneer woman who always had control,
\nWho shared the burden of her mother`s load,
\nWho stood so strong and tall beside her husband`s bed,
\nWho reared her three through desperate times.<\/p>\n
She would allow no such dependency!<\/p>\n
"Mother," he said,
\nfor nine long months you carried me
\ninside your womb,
\nand for years beyond my birth
\nyou held me in your arms."<\/p>\n
This first-born by her bed continued,
\n"So let me now carry you,
\nlift and turn you in your bed
\nto ease the pain."<\/p>\n
Just for a moment
\nher eyes agreed
\nas her lips pursed again those words,
\n"Oh me."<\/p>\n
The body once strong and straight
\nnow lean and limp
\nwas oh so hard to grasp,
\nand harder still to turn to ease the pain.<\/p>\n
He lost his grip-
\nthe sagging flesh fell back to bed.
\n"Damn" he uttered
\nunder his breath.<\/p>\n
She also heard
\nthis expletive her ears could not believe
\nfrom this the preacher`s lips.<\/p>\n
She laughed!
\nNot audibly, but obviously-
\nWith her eyes,
\nHer face,
\nAnd with that twisted smile.<\/p>\n
She laughed!
\nAnd he did too.
\nTogether they shared a final smile
\nthat to this day
\nbrings joy and solace to a first-born`s heart.<\/p>\n
A stronger arm soon lifted her
\nand did not let her go.
\nBeyond the bed,
\nbeyond the antiseptic halls,
\nbeyond the pain and failing flesh,
\nbeyond the springtime thunderheads
\nrushing toward Texas.<\/p>\n
Nevermore would she need to say,
\n"Oh me."
\nFor now she smiles and laughs
\nwith others who have learned
\nwith her
\nthat dependency can be liberating.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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