Clare Shaw

“You were the seed and the leaf and the fruit.
You were the earth and you were the root.

You were the song in the echoing dark.
You were not the snake. You were never the rock.

You were the needle and bark, and you were the river.
You were not winter. You were fresh water.

You were not locked door or slammed door or rattle.
You were not metal. You were not empty bottle.

You were treetop and grassland and night sky and star.
Oh you were warm, you were rain, you were air.

You were the oak leaf and honey and clover
and you were forest and you were my mother.

You were the shore where no crocodiles are.
You were not wire. You were not wire.

- Monkey Writes a Poem About His Mother”
― Clare Shaw, Towards a General Theory of Love