Le Guin, Dear Mother

It was Spring, 2001, when I first truly met you.
Your maps, rich with names I couldn’t read,
A magic that spoke to me, your words so true
That I could not help but know the power of a name.

When I was gifted the magic of words, they were yours.
I saw your wizard, his journey and tears, and they were mine,
Became even more dear to me than family, who never did
Show the love even Ged knew from his first teacher.

You were my true mother, and all I learned of life is you.
When Winter’s chill reached me, I walked with Genly
Through endless sorrow, and came through, stronger,
Because you wrote him into being, and me with him.

It was Spring, 2018, when the world lost you.
I never beheld your face. Never showed you
The tear-stained manuscripts I wrote for you.
But I love you, even now, and wish you knew

Dear Mother,
That one boy, so small and broken, was made your son by your words.

Photo credit Copyright © by Marian Wood Kolisch

Published by AC Moore

My goal is to one day change the world in the same way Shakespeare did: by infusing the thoughts of the human race with such language and turn-of-phrase that they say them daily, and never even know it was I who wrote it.

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