2013-0321 Poem ‘The Gift of our Mother’ by Dan Allen

You picked up love
And put it into my hands
I held it as an obstacle
To my thoughts
I was one of the empty barrels
I made lots of sounds
Love that you poured into me
Filled my hallows
The sounds died
Or should I say, “had no space to live”
You filled me
As the Flutist fills the flute
You reaped what you sowed
I was your fruit and you loved me
I was the music that penetrated your ears
Filling your heart with love
You loved, and I became your love
That was my hidden potential.