Resting cold as granite,
your eternal carving lies
among the oak trees’ roots
Where earthworms eat
the leaves and bones,
waiting for the winter’s snow.
But autumn silence rules
as shadows of your naked tree
caress me with its caring fingers
and my hair is wet from tears;
I sit here waiting for the spring,
when alabaster anemones
will send me greetings forth.
A mother’s blessings from below
Linked to Mag Tales and to Real Toads Open Link Monday
—
October 19, 2014
Björn Rudbergs writings 
The third stanza gave me chills. I really liked this.
Yes, being tethered to someone else’s dream is a little sad.
Bjorn, A bit dark in a way. A tree growing around a tombstone is a bit creepy. It must have been an very old graveyard. Well written though. 🙂 — Susan
spring flowers are a blessing indeed.
Beautifully melancholy but with the promise of spring….lovely..
Beautiful sentiments on a difficult subject.
a mothers blessing from below…
not easy to lose a mom but it is good to go back
to her resting place and feel a bit closer
even if for a moment…
What great lines to have mother;s blessings from below. Mothers will always care for their kids.
I love the yew-tree vibe of this churchyard ditty, a bared tree in autumn still providing a mother’s nourishment. Did you mean “her” or “here” in the final stanza? I suppose it works both ways.
I did indeed mean here.. you end up trusting your spell checker too much..
Oh! How wonderful to feel her in the whole tree whose roots entwine with hers! I love the tree’s shadow caressing with naked fingers! The title perfectly captures that mood as well.
I am sure Bette Midler sang a song about the Alabaster Anemones …but i like yours better ..
Cheers mate
Very clever sort of reversal. Thanks, Bjorn. k.
this was nice journey.
gracias
Oh Bjorn, I absolutely adore that last stanza:
“I sit here waiting for the spring,
when alabaster anemones
will send me greetings forth.
A mother’s blessings from below”
Lovely.
Rich and dark like earth. Eternal carvings and silence drop me down like meditation.
Lovely.
Comfort is hard to find at the graveside of a parent.. you capture that very well in the image of alabaster anemones… an impervious beauty indeed.
So many wonderful lines in this…..beautiful write of grief and life and it’s seasons.
This is exceptionally good Bjorn. The seasons, decay and rebirth, and the granite and alabaster… every detail is just right.
I saw this prompt at The Mag and didn’t know how to put it into words. You have done so admirably.
Lovely poem … lovely.
I just smacked my open hand to my chest, and my husband came to see what gave me such a jolt. I read your poem to him… And then we discussed the expertise with which your words show the mourning of death and the hope of rebirth… even if as something else.
What a lovely flow of earthiness and sentiment. Lovely.
A mother’s love never ends. It certainly is a treasured privilege for those so blessed! Great write Bjorn!
Hank
Beautifully evocative…
Love and loss. Loss and recovery. Recovery and hope. It’s all here.