Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.

-Isaiah 49:16

The gift is blood and sacrifice

to free us all from sin.

The prize is God’s own kingdom,

ours to shun or enter in.

The path is treacherous and long,

for trails of sin are crossed.

The change of heart is mighty, and

it comes at no small cost.

The Bread of Life is ours to taste;

no soul is forced to heaven,

but he who feasts upon such Bread

will rise up as new leaven:

Forgiven and forgiving,

seventy times seven.

“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:21-11).

“Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened. For even Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us” (1 Corinthians 5:7).

“We ought to do better; we ought to become as leaven; we ought to become as a light from which goodness and truth and beauty and virtue may spread across the world” (Gordon B. Hinckley).

Every day, we pledge the flag.

I say the words real loud.

I stand up straight and tall because

it makes me feel so proud.

My daddy is a soldier, and

the flag makes him proud, too.

He fights for what it stands for.

It stands for me and you.

Today we celebrate our troops,

whose valor must be praised.

Our nation is the legacy

of heroes, born and raised.

From sea to shining sea, they choose

to honor and protect

the laws and land that we revere,

the freedoms we respect.

The sacrifices of these men

and women stir our hearts,

invoking all the gratitude

their selflessness imparts.

We celebrate each one of them

and thank their families, too,

for rising to our country’s call

with courage known by few.

May we be true to all who serve,

and hold in memory,

each father…mother…daughter…son…

whose blood has kept us free.

What song shall I sing for my mother? What key?

Which chords own the notes that will set her joy free?

Was psalm ever born that could raise her hopes high

as the million bright stars she has hung in my sky?

Might one interval be so deep and so wide

that the dreams of her heart could rest safely inside?

Which chorus would ring through her soul like a bell,

proclaiming in cadence what words cannot tell…

that she is a mother of infinite worth,

whose opus has played since the day of my birth?

What song shall I sing for my mother? What key?

Which chords own the notes that will set her joy free?

∞∞∞

One melody answers, in strains weak and strong.

Its verses are mine, every line, right or wrong.

I sing for my mother…I’ve sung all along.

My life is the song.

Happy Mother’s Day to my mom…and to every mom.

May the lives of your children be the sweetest songs of your heart.

]]> http://susannoyesandersonpoems.com/2011/05/08/a-song-for-my-mother-2/feed/ 0 http://susannoyesandersonpoems.com/2011/05/04/my-mother-taught-me/ http://susannoyesandersonpoems.com/2011/05/04/my-mother-taught-me/#comments Wed, 04 May 2011 15:27:32 +0000 admin http://susannoyesandersonpoems.com/?p=2659 ©2011 Susan Noyes Anderson

My mother taught me how to play

each note to form a song.

She showed me how to hold the bow

and keep my down stroke strong.

I learned from her instruction:

Push your wrist back. Elbow under.

She coaxed the music through her hands

and brought forth strains of wonder.

Mom taught me much of living

in those early childhood days…

of violins, of artistry,

and of a mother’s ways.

April showers bring May flowers

(nature goes to work)

May blooms bring June prom-night rooms

(parents go berserk)

June trysts through July persist

(summer’s underway)

July fun turns to August sun

(good times every day)

August fries, September dies

(love is on the wane)

September views October’s hues

(perhaps, ‘twas not in vain)

October gold, November cold

(red-orange passions dance)

November chills, December stills

(Noel is soft romance)

December lights, January blights

(cuddle close together)

January blows, February glows

(valentines trump weather)

February hearts inspire March arts

(spring begins to fling)

March buds claim the April rain

(bluebirds on the wing)

April showers bring May flowers

(love is everything)