Dear mother I often see you
In my mind’s eye
Your eyes reach heaven’s bluish blue
Your hair the whitest delight
Your arms reach out into branches
(You stretch as you carry)
The berries that grow there
Those berries being carried out
Into my mouth
Your feet are no longer moving on
But they are growing deep
Into the earth in search for
(Oceans to reap)
The berries that grow there
They grow red redder brighter
Than the colour of your beating heart
Your eyes grow white lighter
They reach as far
As the outstretched horizon
(At the end of your garden)
The berries that grow there
The berries that grow there
Where you grow on and cease to be you
But somehow remind me
Of what is truly true