Jump to content

Welcome, Guest!

We've noticed you're viewing our site as a guest, which offers limited access to our features. Registration is quick, simple, and free! Why not sign in or create an account today?

Search Stories

Recent Comments

- - - - -



This is a poem to honor mothers. My mother and my step-mom are both gone, but both of them were terrific people. After an eleven year struggle with Alzheimer's disease, and after living nearly six years with my wife and I, my mother passed away in our home on September 8, 2001, only three days before the infamous 9/11.
To those who are mothers, this is a poem in your honor. I am a father of two sons, and a proud grandfather of a very handsome boy. And even though I love my sons, my DIL, and grandson dearly, I am convinced that my love cannot compare to a mother's love. When I was born, the doctor told her that it would have been better if I had been still-born. I was born at home in 1943, due to WW2. I was born with a harelip and cleft palate, and was born breech. My mother got angry and ordered out of the house. Instead of abandoning me, she did everything possible to ensure that I would live a normal life. Now almost seventy years later, I can say she succeeded. I can still remember the time I left home to join the army on July 13, 1960. My mother and I sat in the car, waiting for my departure time. She was weeping, and saying, that if she could only do it, she would cancel her permission for me to go in, as I had turned seventeen on that very day. I can remember her pride when my wife and I were married. I remember when she held our oldest son - her first grandson - in her arms. There were tears, but they were tears of joy. (My sister actually won the baby pool, but she cheated, she had twin girls. :D But they are beautiful ladies.) But I also remember, many years later, how she would weep in fear, as she could not recognize me as her oldest son.
Jerry Ham

If a mother’s tears get you to wondering,
she’ll probably tell you, “Oh it’s nothing.”
But if we looked closely, what would we find?
Will her tears reveal what’s on her mind?
Hey there’s a tear! Shall we take a look?
Let’s try to make her an open book.
I’ll place it under the microscope,
This will give us some clues ... I hope.
A range of emotions I’m beginning to see,
They may have to do with someone like me.
There is love and hope, grief and fear,
All this I find in only one tear.
Here’s another, let’s check it out,
let’s find out what a mother’s about.
There’s a lot of prayer to God above,
To keep us safe in His great love.
Whoa! What is this I’m seeing here?
There’s a big surprise in this little tear.
This small tear is filled with pride,
An emotion she sometimes tries to hide.
Only now, am I able to see,
How complex a mother can be.
The love and hope that’s in her heart,
Will never end even though we’re apart.
It over-rides her grief and fears,
that’s what I see in a mother’s tears.
Mothers, you’re loved for now and always,
So I’ll just say, Happy Mother’s Day.

© Jerry Ham

Allow Reprint?: Contact the author for permission to reprint