Mothers, Girls & Heroes


I lie here in my Sunday smile

remembering yesteryears

meals, ornery children

singing what it means to be a mother

to have had one

feeling days and days and days go by

to breakfast, lunch, and dinners

Do I remember hunger beyond a Sunday fasting?

The rush

Yes…..too fast.

Sunday’s meant for slower, lovelier things I think

like God and Grace

and not for want for food and knowledge


the past shifts in the meaning I assign to it

I shift………wondering

What needy children eat beyond the end of school years?

Title One fears

and yet…

I ball up in American space

abundance and waste

These fill my mind and lead a heart to reaching for unreachable

somehow teachable

I want to be that million dollar teacher

sparking minds

a Sherri Gahn of miracles in Vegas

In my imagination

I am

Kneading fingers and little minds


keyboarding Ipads and answers somewhere out there

desiring to regift treasures


Mine is simple luxory and leisure

Sunday morning and doing nothing in my cozy blanket rolls

reading, writing…….

with ease of flyrods wade the lazy river

Not true for other sisters daughters friends and mothers

Yet I am resting, curling in the eddy

a tide and foam

of gain

of bedsheets, spread and strewn with fragrant laundry

spin cycling a mind of quandry

while folding towels and social media stack

where stories coil and recoil to likes and comments

emotions flap

and dry like wrinkles on a clothes line

stroke sweetened aged faces

like a summer breeze of friends

and strangers smiling, weeping

Facebook keeping

beginnings and ends

home on Mothers Day

a day that fights to have its truest say

in please and thank you

may I go?

among the grays

and need for New Years resurrecting white

clean clothes and better living


“Hello Malala. You are my hero.”

Come have tea with me and talk awhile.



About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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