Mother

[Aine MacAodha]

Mother

I seek you in the lakes of Tyrone
The less known ones whose beauty
Remain unblemished by progress.
In the curling streams at war
With the elements and whose
Very existence is threatened by
Housing developments.
I look for you as summer coughs up
Its last songs of the season,
I seek your words in her breath.
In the secrets of motherhood
Asleep in the elderly, yearning
Recall once again.
I seek it too in the faces of youth
In the songs they sing from
The concrete forests they live in.

I also seek it in me
When dark clouds
Gather up a storm.