May 11, 2025 (Mother's Day)

I wrote both of my parents a few poems over the years, sometimes in honor of the applicable parent's day, sometimes for their birthdays, sometimes, just because. This one goes back to 2003 and my mom had it framed in their house. When they passed away a decade ago, I took it, along with two for my father that they had framed, and have them on a wall with some other memories of them. I always felt this was slightly flawed (if anything, I am not sure why I didn't call it Influence).  Anyway, as I think about my mom on this day, I would reiterate that there can be no oversight to her influence on me.

No Oversight

Don't think I overlook your influence,

Just look over your presence in my life,

And like the old documents we enjoy,

I've had to look at this one many times

To see the patterns emerge from the text.

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Surface interpretations came easily

In the earlier choices in my life.

The fascination with the departed,

Their spirits, their lingering, their records,

The memories of all that they left behind.

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Into the world of manuscripts I delved

Using their decisions to structure mine.

At a deeper level you helped me dig

Layers of songs, poetry, and journals

That turned thoughts into fragments of ideas.

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At this late date, a new pattern is emerging,

Troubling, enabling, comforting,

That crystallizes the driving forces

In my struggle for what completes my self,

Bringing us again to a little boy.

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Searching for a desired substitute,

I chased the same recurring specters.

Physically, hair was dark, figures thin,

Mentally they sought to cross arcane tracks

Laid down by some related influence.

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I saw myself as the shining hero

Pursuing these shadowy entities,

Overwhelmed by a distant history

That two people made without clear knowledge

Of what influence it would have on me.

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There can be no oversight anymore,

I accept the legacy you've given.

Look at all the recurrent impressions

The past has provided the present time.

I understand the history after all.