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you say you never knew her
that there was nothing special to her
but a storm was raging through her

and she just kept the peace.

biscuits in the morning
gravy in the day
gather wheat by evening
and obediently lay

seven kids by thirty-one
mama’s work ain’t never done
i hear the songs she left unsung

by keeping all that peace.

two went off to college
one got killed in Nam
three made sense of madness
one refused to call her, “Mom”

she wouldn’t let her words pass through
her vote was his, plus hers, makes two
and she did all that she could do

to keep on keeping peace.

bend the knee and plant the farm
knit and tie the worsted yarn
protect the children from all that harm

out there, where there’s no peace.

but children fly like cottonwood seed
away from lofty cradles
and rarely know who filled their need
just wrapped her up in labels

 

those songs she sang?
though not out loud?
do you know what they said?

they said,

“peace, to you
my different ones,
my lost and my neglected
peace in lives i hope for you
though life leaves you rejected
peace in endless, urgent craving
peace in thought and tongue
peace in hand and candlelight
peace, though you’re undone.”

 

but she rested,

unheard.

unsung.

 

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