A Daughter's Plea was written by me for my mother and any other mother who appreciates its words and, most importantly, meaning. It is the 39th poem in my first published book entitled "A Poetess' First Flight" now available on amazon.com. The poem begins with identifying my mother as my sweet friend, a quality which I believe all mothers should possess. The poem goes on to honor the many years my mother dedicated to the caretaking of others, from her kids, to the patients in hospitals and clinics to whom she dedicated most of her career, the private clients who required extensive supervision and care including a sweet lady I remember to this day who was suffering from Alzheimer's I would sometimes visit with, and to the men whom she watched over until the end of their lives, one of the two being my father who passed away when I was but thirteen years old. The poem honors a mother's strength to sacrifice her own well-being and put herself last, often out of her benevolence and desire to serve others even when many of those "others" were not her own, close blood relatives. I still remember being a teenager working side by side with mom in a nursing home. It was my first job I ever had, post my arrival to the USA in 1997. During this time in my life, I witnessed the caretaking of elders who became very dear to me thanks to the teachings from mom who actually practiced (not just talked about or read from books about) showing compassion to elders. I learned through my own personal journey but also from watching mom at her job, how to bathe, dress, feed, and provide companionship to elders as I too practiced caregiving before completing my undergrad studies. The poem moves onto honoring mother's generosity towards others. Mother took care of others' parents, children, and grandchildren and often selflessly so, without expecting too much in return. She often played the role of "mother" when the real mothers were not present through genuine dedication and effort. The poem shifts from honoring mother in the first stanza to pleading mother, in the second stanza, to lead a life, now in her older age, free from any distress. The daughter (me) reminds her mother of the importance of a relationship with God and how leaning on that beautiful knowledge is the ultimate peace. The last stanza also makes a fine distinction between God who has gentle fingertips to hold us and caress us when we are finally in his glorious presence and Satan who is the world's greatest liar.
A Daughter’s Plea
poem by
Carmen A. Cisnadean
Dear mother, my sweet friend
I have seen your hefty heart, as it spilled,
Love in the water well of souls, hurting,
Meanwhile neglecting your own suffering,
The bitter roots of crude resentment
Which you cut off with your benevolence
Forgiveness seeds planted instead by feeble hands
A garden of complaisance blossoming
Tears with the flavor of raindrops gracing
The gentle petals, as streams fell over the beating pulse while
Sun knocked on the door, a luminous display
Ignited the smallest nooks and crannies vibrating within
The fortress whose guarding clock hands move restlessly
Where your generosity prevailed despite the grueling pains
Light protruding all the way to heaven’s gates
Strength burgeoning mettle, inscribed in your name.
Don’t you agonize over a single thing
For there’s a time and place for everything
Eternal halls await beyond the hustle of this life
Where wounds of every kind and shape
God will touch with his gentle fingertips
As long as we invite him in,
Not once again live with contempt
Satan’s greatest lie to man,
Feel the heaven’s rays as they stretch in
Fracturing the contrite clouds that faint
Leaving no room for harrowing storms
Over the landscape of our souls,
The key to everything
Is hidden in the smallest moments that we’ve known,
Hear your daughter’s fervent plea
Concert of sodden words that paint, truths that uphold the bold.
Mother - I love you dearly. Words cannot fully encapsulate everything I wish to say and all the wonderful feelings I feel when I think of how blessed I have been to have had a mother like you. I know you always felt displeasure for not being able to do "more" for me, but mother you did everything you could and I sincerely could never ask for more. It reminds me of the story when "Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, 'Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.'" While others would have done it for money, you did it out of love. While others would have only talked about it, you did it via actions. While others would have given a fraction of themselves, you gave your all and the best you could. Thus, I could never hold any resentment towards you, none whatsoever. On the contrary, I am proud to have had a mother like you as example of giving, of what it means to be a giver and a doer. I love you like you love me, unconditionally. And this love of ours will live on, forever. I honor your name not just on Mother's Day, but every day of my life as I remember fondly you sitting here in my living room, holding me, and telling me stories from when I was too little to remember. I love you dearly and you truly are and have been an exceptional mother. Thank you for being such a mother, friend, and example to me. With much love. - Your daughter, Carmen A. Cisnadean
Mother and I celebrating our love before her departure to Romania, in March of 2021
Happy Mother's Day to All The Wonderful Mothers of The World
Carmen A. Cisnadean