MOTHER

The house is held hard in the garden’s heart; the frost has come at last, the ground will not be broken now for weeks and weeks. Inside it does not smell as home once did; the rooms have different names and everything has moved.

In the room that once was mine you lie and when you speak so small and far away it takes long seconds for the sound to understand. Mother, who taught me once to love all things, have faith now out across the water, into light.

Kenneth Steven

Photo: Unsplash

This article appears in the February 2020 Issue of Life and Work

Click here to view the article in the magazine.

To view other articles in this issue Click here.

If you would like to view other issues of Life and Work, you can see the full archive here.