For Mother’s Day

shallow focus photo of pink ceramic roses
Photo by Acharaporn Kamornboonyarush on


Mexico, 2014

Wendy Pratt 

It is like saying goodbye again.

This is the longest I’ve been away from her

since she was delivered like a hot brick

into my husband’s arms.


We are flying from four years

of investigating her death. I think

even the turquoise of the Caribbean

can’t bring me back from the tiredness.


But I calm to the white sand, the tiny shells, so similar,

so different to the ones on Filey bay. I watch

the diamond shadow of a sting ray, gliding gently in its world.

I climb the hot stone ruins of Tulum,

wade the warm sea, swim in cenote,

drink margaritas on the beach.


I make an offering to the Mayan Gods; have her name set

in Mayan silver, hieroglyphics on a piece of black stone,

and I wear it round my neck, watch it glitter as I swim in the perfect blue,

feeling guilty I can’t dandle her legs in the sea.



2 thoughts on “For Mother’s Day

  1. The most timeless poems are forged from the deepest pain. I will not read a better poem on Mothers day. A friend of mine went through a still birth and to him she will always be his daughter and he will always be her Father. Your poems move me like no other writer. x


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