(jane birkin + kate barry by andrew birkin, majorca 1967)

I remember I saw my mother,

Always, as an exclamation mark

And at times …a period.

I removed the memory of her hurting…

Her hurt …

seemed to be different than scraped knees or broken things ….

It affected the weather

It went to the soul 

And I remember 

When I began hoping for someone to love her,the way she loved us…

Wisdom is not vapors

It’s thick as blood 

And there is one language 

We all understand 

And it’s love 

Someone once said 

A child is the only one who knows the sound of a mothers heartbeat…

From the inside 

So it makes sense

I guess 

That we arrive here

And we see it…

So clearly 

She gardens,and things grow.

She sews hurts back together 

And plants seeds of virtue 

She is her own magic 

And her own book 

She is not a muse 

Or an explanation 

She simply 

Is …

That kind of Woman