This poem by the late Eileen nee Earls Breen (March 27, 1916 - May 5, 2005) Itis sponsred by
Damien and Mairead Lynam, Co. Kildare, Ireland. They say;
"Aunt Eileen's poems reflect kindness, humanity, justice."
This is poem number five of twenty one.
IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER
You were the tender hands
that eased our childhood ills
compounding cures with the flax seed
and liqourice, bread poltice
or sulphur and treacle
no doctor got rich on your family
Culpepper couldn't hold a match to you
You were the maker of pancakes, ginger,
and caraway seed cakes, or best of all,
hot jam roly-poly on winter evenings
You were the voice
calling in the wilderness
as we strove to read 'Ireland's Own' or
Buffalo Bill' before we had finished
our schoolwork
You were the one who wept
and worried for us
as we went out into the world
and left you lonely
You were the one who helped rear
our children
who now remember you
as their beloved Gran
You were the one who taught
us how to live
and that harder lesson
how to die
with fortitude, dignity
and a great sense of humor.
Sleep well, Mother mine.
P.S. Damien Lynam was born in his Grandmother's house in Graiguenamanagh.
Twenty one poems by Eileen Breen will be posted on Ourecho.
Hot Jam Roly-poly is described in the comments.
Pheasant food of rolled dough, filled with red jam, rolled up and baked until brown. When cool, blanket with egg custard and a dollop of fresh cream.