The Poetry Of.
Deborah Rey...........................
Save some Supper for me
When, 'Save some supper for me,' he wrote,
I went upstairs and dressed the softest
bed we have with soul clean sheets
and restful dreamless blankets.
Our soft embrace, when he arrived,
was as tender and loving as our
kindred spirit red earth Tara love,
as pure as Mr Wilkes' Millie.
Hand in hand we roamed the woods,
– no mountains here for searching souls -
eternal ocean music, rhythm of the waves
caressed and stroked his lonesome feet.
We stood, my arms around him, watched as one
the wonder of an almost G-dly magical horizon,
sun-warmed salty water matched his tears,
ocean music love caressed his heart into a steady beat
and when, at last, he smiled and turned to me,
seeing me for the first time and coming home,
he gently took my hand and tall, proud pines waved
as we passed, and birds sang our return.
I told him, 'Sit, enjoy our daily meal with grace,
let's share the wine and break the bread in peace.
No treason in this house or heart for Supper.'
He nodded, knowing it would not be his Last.
Numbers
Two hours after I was born
my father left the room, and
took me to the monster mother,
who was his blackmailing wife.
Fifty-two years I endured,
was subjected to her hatred,
her punishment of the child
for the father’s sin.
Six years of my life
I knew what love was,
because Marie was there,
to buffer the mother’s abuse.
Six-years-old,
in the dark of the night,
I had to take her to safety.
Or, that’s what I believed.
Nineteen forty-four,
November nineteen.
Marie died, far, far away,
in Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Nineteen forty-five,
January twenty-seven
the camp was liberated.
Too late for her.
Thirty-five years later,
when I was forty-two,
someone finally had the guts
to tell me, that
Marie was my real Mother.
One hundred years
the monster mother lived
and, in spite of everything,
I gave her a decent funeral.
The Sea is my Mother
The Sea is my Mother,
my Mother is the Sea.
She adopted me, and
she embraces me
whenever I am lost,
have lost the way
to Life.
The Sea is my Mother,
la Mer est ma Mère.
Her bluest blue,
or greenest green,
is like her eyes
that long ago gave me
her Love.
La Mer est ma Mère,
my Mother is the Sea.
She rocks me,
carries me along,
sings me gentle lullabies,
when I cannot find a way
to Live.
The Sea, ma Mère,
ma Mère, the Sea
carries me along.
The sun, filtered by
salty water, in my eyes,
my body no longer mine.
In peace.
La Mer est ma Mère,
my Mother is the Sea.
I nestle in her arms,
and carried by her waves,
I hope forever and beyond
not to come back.
Ever.
My Mother, the Sea
la Mer, ma Mère,
takes me back me to Now,
makes me look
towards the beach
and you are there. Always.
And you wave.
You wait for me. Always.
For me you wait.
Hoping, that this time again,
I won’t leave with my Mother.
You’re holding a yellow bathrobe,
and love is smiling
in your eyes.
Together, we say Goodbye.
Goodbye, for now,
to the Sea, who is my Mother.
La Mer, qui est ma Mère
is beautiful and holds
the secret of Peace.
One day perhaps.
But, it is with you
that I will go Home
today.
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