—Lola Ridge (1873-1941)
Your love was like moonlight
turning harsh things to beauty,
so that little wry souls
reflecting each other obliquely
as in cracked mirrors . . .
beheld in your luminous spirit
their own reflection,
transfigured as in a shining stream,
and loved you for what they are not.
You are less an image in my mind
than a luster
I see you in gleams
pale as star-light on a gray wall . . .
evanescent as the reflection of a white swan
shimmering in broken water.
For more about Lola Ridge, see www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/lola-ridge
For more about Mother’s Day poetry, go to www.poets.org/poetsorg/poems-mothers-day
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