On My Mother’s 63rd Birthday

My mother’s love is a mountain 

The peaks of which stretch me toward the sky

Toward futures and heights I could not have known 

Without her

The roots and depths of which anchor me

In who I am, and where I’m from 

Linking back to her mother and her mother’s mother

Within her forests I am sheltered

From deepest cold or sharpest heat 

From wildest wolf or deadliest den

Her shade covers me just enough 

To learn

To grow 

To feel 

This love is immovable. Enduring. 

It has been since before the spark of my existence 

And it will be until my light has faded into glory

My mother’s love is a mountain 

The peaks of which are a signpost

Showing me the way home.