Missing mother’s love as an adult woman. “Rock Me to Sleep” poem by Elizabeth Akers Allen (May 2013)

Susan's Thursday morning note May 9, 2013
Poem by Elizabeth Akers Allen "Rock Me To Sleep"
Desire for mother's love as an adult woman.

Good morning!  What a PERFECT morning.  So still.  No little train engineers awake yet.  Extra filler with a little coffee added in.  Birds incredibly out of tune, making me feel even more as if all is right in my world.  I thought my fan was squeaking or a cricket was in the house & when I followed the annoying noise I found it was the proudest bird in our tree, singing (if you could call it singing) the most out of tune squawk I’ve ever listened to.  Ahhh…an instant little friend! 

I’ve been waiting for this week to come so I could write for you a poem that I have now in my mind.  I was so proud when I purchased my tiny little set of ten books.  The memory of putting them next to my bed over 20 years ago.  I can still smell the memories of the little used bookstore we loved in Arkansas where I found my first poems.  A small little set.  New England blue.  Tiny print now affecting me.  The World’s 1000 Best Poems.  Printed in 1929.  I found this particular treasure one night and read and reread the words.  For any of you missing your moms as this weekend approaches, I hope you love this, too.  And, for those of you with moms still alive, I hope you can think of a friend that would love these words, wishing for their mom back, remembering the sweet moments of being a child.

Rock Me to Sleep by Elizabeth Akers Allen (1832-1911)

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight, 
Make me a child again just for tonight! 
Mother, come back from the echoless shore, 
Take me again to your heart as of yore; 

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, 
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; 
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—      
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep! 

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years! 
I am so weary of toil and of tears,— 
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—   
Take them, and give me my childhood again! 

I have grown weary of dust and decay,—    
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; 
Weary of sowing for others to reap;—    
Rock me to sleep, mother – rock me to sleep! 

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, 
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! 

Many a summer the grass has grown green, 
Blossomed and faded, our faces between: 
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain, 
Long I tonight for your presence again. 

Come from the silence so long and so deep;—    
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep! 
Over my heart, in the days that are flown, 
No love like mother-love ever has shone; 

No other worship abides and endures,—       
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours: 

None like a mother can charm away pain 
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain. 
Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;—      
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep! 

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, 
Fall on your shoulders again as of old; 
Let it drop over my forehead tonight, 
Shading my faint eyes away from the light; 

For with its sunny-edged shadows once more 
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; 
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—    
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep! 

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long 
Since I last listened your lullaby song: 
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem 
Womanhood’s years have been only a dream. 

Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, 
With your light lashes just sweeping my face, 
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—  
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

The tulips are greeting us.  The daffodils are speaking to us.  Our little spring flowers have an innate ability to get straight to our souls and tell us to stand up straighter.  Look up to the hills, drop the foot to our knees, keep the moments of our life in perspective.  To realize no pain we may be experiencing is new over generations of stories.  To realize all joy is a gift.  To realize that spring means new life.  New memories.  Not just looking back, but realizing the choices we make today will be our memories next week.  Our sand timer.  One sand grain at a time can make it through.  Will we slow down enough to let the moments add up to a memory?  The smallest memories end up being the ones at 2:00 a.m. we think of.  The friend that wrote the word hi.  The friend that didn’t have time to write, but you know is there.  The hair on my little one that always makes him look like Tin Tin.  The objects flying around the living room from my older one deciding juggling might be the reason matter exists.  The smile from Stu as he left to be the hunter-gatherer this morning to find a morel mushroom to divide between four of us tonight.  Details.  Life.  What will we think about at 2:00 tomorrow morning? 

Thank you for letting me come into your Thursday morning.  Thank you for coming into our store for your graduation and Mother’s Day gifts.  If you only knew how much you matter to our store.  Have a beautiful day!  Tonight we have the chance to write in stone on our epitaph for the moments today that we will never hold again…will we make the moments and thoughts worthy of inscription?  Susan

Latin for this week:
amor matris - a mother's love
Liberi mei anima mea - my children, my soul
Numquam matris erga filias peribit amor - A mother's love for her daughters will never die.
Meam amare matrem - To love my mother.
Eis quos amo vivo - I live for those I love.