I had two mothers – two mothers I claim,
two different people, yet with the same name.
Two separate women, diverse by design,
but I loved them both because they were mine.

The first was the mother who carried me here,
gave birth and nurtured and launched my career.
She was the one whose features I bear,
complete with the facial expressions I wear.

She gave her love, which follows me yet,
along with examples in life that she set.
As I got older, she somehow younger grew,
and we’d laugh as just mothers and daughters do.

But then came the time that her mind clouded so,
and I sensed that the mother I knew would soon go.
So quickly she changed and turned into the other,
a stranger dressed in the clothes of my mother.

Oh, she looked the same, at least at arms length,
but now she was the child and I was her strength.
We’d come full circle, we women three,
my mother the first, the second and me.

And if my own children should come to a day,
when a new mother comes and the old goes away,
I’d ask of them nothing that I didn’t do.
Love both of your mothers as both have loved you.

Joann Snow Duncanson