In the soft folds

In the Soft & Softer Folds

In the soft fold of the chin

of the bended head of a mother in love

is the start of a new awareness, dawns

which move and shake and bring alive

her character, soul, bind it

Not a reflection of self, but of mysticism,

divinity, fresh laughs and dreams,

the possibility of it within her, within

this frailty, this trust.

In the softer folds of the chin

of the bended head of a mother in love

is the finality of truth and loss, epochs

which crack open that dangerous dance, let it free

evidence in the glass

Image, precision and sting

do not speak, break apart from tombs.

now that strong, bent lap of faith

for each new day, belief only

in precedent and nothing else

captured

in the soft folds of the chin of

the bended head of a mother.

-          R. Parrish