“How to say goodbye to your mother”

In sunlit kitchens where memories cling,  
And tea sits untouched on the table—  
You gather the moments, gentle as spring,  
Things unspoken, and all that you’re able  
To carry inside you, like delicate lace  
Her hands once embroidered in gold:  
A laugh, a recipe, quiet advice—  
A story she never quite told.

You stand by the doorway, keys in your palm,  
Pulse of departure ahead—  
She smooths back your hair with a mother’s calm,  
Whispering, “Go,” though her eyes fill instead.  
How do you say goodbye to the heart  
That beat, for a time, inside yours?  
You hold her, then break, then remake the part  
That is home, as you walk toward new doors.

You promise to write, to visit, to call—  
To make Sunday dinners, or try.  
She tucks you in memory, keeps your old shawl,  
Wipes her cheek with a hush of a sigh.  
Goodbye isn’t leaving, it’s carrying forth  
All her kindness, her starlight, her songs.  
It’s seeing her love in the north and the south  
In your spirit, wherever you’ve gone.

So linger a moment, let silence convey  
All the words too enormous to speak:  
Thank you, I love you, I’ll be okay—  
A goodbye that’s tender, not bleak.  
For mothering’s thread runs through all that you do;  
In farewells, find beginnings anew.

Create Your Own Poem | Recent Poems