Beneath the moon, a rose runs,

a storm of petals sprayed from my mother’s fingers.

I watch her go in the purple rain—

spring rises in her steps.

Light wind on my skin,

sunshine on the sea;

dreams live on after death.


screen shot 2019-01-20 at 12.10.00



Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

21 thoughts on “Mothers”

      1. It was years ago, sixteen in fact. My dad died suddenly ten years before that. Both deaths came out of the blue. It’s hard to get over, but probably easier than watching them get old and infirm which is what many people go through.

      2. 23 years ago for my Dad, so he would have been 90 this year. He had been ready to come home, then had a massive heart attack and never regained consciousness.

      3. I had never known my dad be ill. He was sick on holiday once from eating a bad mussel. He dropped down dead from a massive heart attack carrying the shopping home. I couldn’t believe it.

    1. I had a dream but I couldn’t remember it except that it was full of nostalgia. I asked the Oracle this morning and she gave me this. Maybe the soft nostalgic impression was my mother? I’m glad I consulted her 🙂

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