Your Mom
Tag Archives: Mother
Nonplussed
Were I to sit down once again on that bronze-y parquet floor
Recalling bare-legged me
Relishing the coming summer sunset warming the scene
Floor-to-ceiling picture windows
My minion, watching monkey-business on the idiot box
Constant companions, we
T-shirt and shorts, the two of us
The uniform of the discarded
I would smile this time
I understood and understand still
Your ill-behavior, your abandonment
Warranted silence
I could say no more
I’d polish my toenails
That same multicolored glitter gloss
Plotting my goodbye
Knowing you won’t care
Yes Goddesses
With prophetic vision
All the women
In the family
Mothers and daughters
Cousins and nieces
With pets present
Met in unison
Tethered their souls
Gathered their wisdom
Shared bad meals
Cried then laughed
Rolled up sleeves
Studied the data
Examined their hearts
Consulted with God
Exhaled a “Yes”
Cleaned the mess
Moved some mountains
Saved the world
Then slept soundly
Alma
Shadowboxing
In the evening, I sat out, well beyond 8:58
The front porch shadows shielded me
That I might pretend
My bedtime hadn’t come and gone
The smile in my telephone-voice wasn’t masking a mom’s tortured heart
Acceptance would come and those few miles away, would prove okay, someday
Hood ornaments on passing trucks did in no way devastate
This wasn’t the calm before the storm
The temperature wouldn’t dare drop, degree by degree, with each sip of my sleepy-time tea
The gardens weren’t soon going to hell
My choice to survive hadn’t offended my God
Tomorrow, no one would know
First Of All
I am not God
But I know a truth
So I will say what
Let us recreate Woman
What the divine image!
Be she blessed
Let us grant her dominion
See these creatures
In need of a fruitful goddess
Let us know her abundance
Let us call her good
Let us rest
wife of his youth
Do you remember, before you were born, child, how I was sad a lot, for I, back then, was always the other?
While he, in utmost civil tongue, talked and laughed hard with others and shouted and murdered and silenced the me
I talked to you, “It is okay.” and God would keep us and we three would always, always, always have eachother
God danced with us and I with you when no one else would dance with me…there was always and always another
Questions from the Kitchen
Why then, the pool of flesh on the floor?
Why then, the hearkening back
Again and again and again?
Linoleum and helplessness
And bargaining
The feel of it all
On my knees
My shoulders, still
A Mother’s love
It’s why I breathe, still
I answer
Mother Road
What is the name of that road? The spirit and purpose of it? The one we approach, day in and day out, without hesitation?
Familiar with the smell of it, the distractions, attractions and tourist traps along the way, but unsure, in the dark, where to turn when it’s time, finally time, for a rest stop.
Trust, we must, the touch. The feel of our wheels we were gifted, from The Road of all roads, The Mother.
Dear Father,
