Brocaded Life (For Eden)

My mother's hands are silken gloves
Woven of the warmest thread,
Embroidered by the day, year, life.

Each caress a flower,
A vine of smiles, tears, hugs-
Strength etched in lines.

For this I strive,
This tapestry of life accomplished:
Instead of gold, a softly callused cloth.

Hagar Shirman