I Learned From Mom by Alyssa Abell

How to love, unabashed.
How fresh fruits, canned
or jammed are the best.
That baked goods can lift
a broken soul or bring
 holiday joy to a home.
How to do things we would
rather not, and smile.
To pay your respects
to the living and dead.
To cherish time now,
it will pass too quick.
How to be brave, fierce,
know we'll make it through.
That being popular doesn't
mean anything, but
being you means the world.
To be creative, let no one
take that from you.
My mom taught me how to be.
There are lessons I still can't
grasp, but she always grips
me tightly, you'll be fine.

-----------------------------------------

What I Learned From My Mother

By: Julia Kasdorf

I learned from my mother how to love

the living, to have plenty of vases on hand

in case you have to rush to the hospital

with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants

still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars

large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole

grieving household, to cube home-canned pears

and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins

and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.

I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know

the deceased, to press the moist hands

of the living, to look in their eyes and offer

sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.

I learned that whatever we say means nothing,

what anyone will remember is that we came.

I learned to believe I had the power to ease

awful pains materially like an angel.

Like a doctor, I learned to create

from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once

you know how to do this, you can never refuse.

To every house you enter, you must offer

healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,

the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.