Mother

Chiming,
the bells ring for necessity,
crying from their hearts:
who’s there, who’s not,
who was, was never.

Abandoned in the memory,
imagined faces are still alive:
who’s there, who’s not,
whose was love, who had none.

Come home, he said,
mother, father, whatever
you might have been,
whoever.

The streets run one way;
the brick alleys are empty
of the child he had been
with all the other children
now turned into ghosts.

No-one said hello,
only goodbye, with no return,
no homecoming, the past:
a continent of orphans.

Invention, a function of love,
made up his losses, made up
the words of songs
voices still sing.

© BH, 2020

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Something for Poetry24 - the word was ‘MUM’. I decided not to do another Mothers' Day poem. I went looking - ‘mum’, ‘mother’, on and on. Eventually, my news-hounding led me into John Lennon's past and his deep and long-time abandonment. issues Here's what emerged.

Here is the news link: American SongwriterBehind the Song: John Lennon, “Mother”https://americansongwriter.com/mother-john-lennon-story-behind-the-song/