Mentor (Poetry)

Could I have chosen for myself a mother —
a woman I could claim to be
the root of me and all I am —
a source of strength and wisdom, courage, too
to do and say, with honesty and grit
those things that others shy away from —
you — of all the personalities I’ve met
possess those traits that fit.

Too short, the time I spent with you —
I listened, but I should have listened more.
Much that I heard and saw has stayed with me —
impressed at some deep level — kept clear
as any favourite lesson in life’s classroom
rings true — always true —
your best example — leading from the front.

I carry a warm memory laced with respect —
you left me much to value and to hold
as legacy — a handing-down I’m unlikely to forget —
the encouragement I’d long been waiting for —
and something more — connected to the rôle
of surrogate — informal — my orphan mind
grateful for attention — you were kind.

I wonder if you saw potential and knew
it needed subtle nurturing —
perhaps the casual way you dropped advice
was a discreet examination — some small test
to see if I would use such knowledge well —
invest and speculate creatively.

What now? Now that you are gone —
my sincerest critic and maternal friend —
your voice an echo and your written words
like tablets carved — unchanging as your name —
you’ve set a standard for me — a high bar —
an elevated target to attain.

I’ve searched myself for clues —
unearthed the buried lazy heart
of lingering ambition
and fear I won’t match up or make you proud —
It’s late, but not too late
to rise from this slough of mediocrity
and be the shining prodigal — become
the daughter who’s discovered the way home.