Skip to main content

To My Mother

  To my Mother


To My Mother's Feet.
Thank you for carrying me, through the woods when I refused to keep going.
Through my pain when I thought it was too much to handle.
Through my cuts and scratches as I explored the world.
The bones that hold you up, that taught me what it feels like to stand and to move myself through the world.

To My Mother's Arms.
Thank you for rocking me to sleep for years when you were tired and couldn't hold anymore, thank you for still holding.
Thank you for playing with my hair, braid after braid.
For scratching my back when you wanted to do anything else.
Thank you for hugging me, holding me close, tight, and never letting go.

To My Mother's Hands.
The hands that bandaged my wounds, bandage-able or not.
Thank you for wiping my tears, catching them in your own.
Thank you, hands, for clapping for me through sports, my words, my fears, and my battles.
The hands that pushed me forward to be my best.

To My Mother's Voice.
That soothed me through pain, heartbreak, and doubt.
Thank you for reading to me at night, for yelling at referees for my pride.
Thank you for the praise, the "you can do it"s and the "i love you"s.

To My Mother's Eyes.
Your heterochromia iridum that saw the beauty and potential in me decades before I saw it in myself.
Thank you for SEEING me from day 1 and continue to see me today.
It's a different kind of seeing, one that is full of love, empowerment, and hope.
Thank you for seeing my struggle and reaching out, offering your arms, heart, and soul to heal my wounds.

To My Mother's Heart.
Thank you for taking her to my Father.
Thank you for listening to the love it screamed at you, that pushed you to him despite challenges that were dropped in your way.
Thank you for that love in creating me and bringing me into this world.

To My Mother's Smile.
For laughing with me, creating laughter in me.
Thank you for playing peek-a-boo with me, capturing images of my growth as a laugher in this world.
The smile that lights up a room, that consistently provides rays of joy to those around you.

To My Mother's Pain,
Thank you for my birth pain, your mountain pain, and your "I had a radio land on me pain".
The pain that is a part of your journey, the story behind your bones and your soul.
Thank you for holding that pain and not letting it win.
Thank you for giving her strength and belief that things DO get better.

To My Mother's Mind.
That taught me to read, that sat with patience as I learned letters and US History.
Thank you for passing your wisdom and knowledge to me, and encouraging me to keep learning.

To My Mother's Soul.
That holds pain, sorrow, grief, joy, hope, love, and trust all wrapped up in it.
That believes in laughter and happiness as a part of life.
Thank you for sharing with me.

To My Mother's Body.
I love your body, It was a vessel for me to grow, that created my own body to thrive in.
It's a lap that I will always love laying on, arms to hold me forever.

To My Mother.
I Love You.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cat Named Frank

  If you ever find yourself outside of a used bookstore, do not pass go. Open the door and happen upon stories, treasure maps, keys to other worlds, and maybe an old cat named Frank wandering the corridors. You’ll know it’s the right place based on the unorganized shelves and grungy carpet, the smell of dust, life, and letters will whirl under your nostrils. That same dust will hang limply in the air under the stream of sunlight in the stained windows. You will be picked, called out and born here. As you walk silently down each aisle, you won’t really need to read the title. And if you do, do it at the end. If you let yourself feel it, your soul will tell you. Drift a finger over the hump of each spine, each worn and scarred body, and when it says stop, Listen. Grasp it gently, and no matter what, smell it first. The old ones always call to me most. So many hands where mine lies now, so many shelves, tables, and beds it laid on before resting here. There are so many lives it saw, w...
Post a Comment
Read more

Lilac Sidewalk

  Same Sidewalk.  As Yesterday.  It catches you by surprise.   But today. They are here. Either smell or sight and you are called out. Silky petals. Our female elders peeking out with their violet irises The smell, oh the smell.  It swirls in your chest trying to coat your lungs, for just a little bit longer. Same Sidewalk. As Yesterday. You see the crispy. The sun held them just a little bit too long. Close enough, the smell sits still.  But the drops have drifted. Toasted and broiled. It’s gone so fast. Sad and True. I mourn for those that missed it. For those that will forget.  Same Sidewalk.  As Yesterday. Their abode remains season to season. Empty and forgotten Their graceful presence is now a brief memory. Every now and again, I remember what was once. And what will be again.
Post a Comment
Read more

You can tell them

You can tell them. Tell them I've changed, that you don't recognize the person looking back at you anymore. Tell them I'm fat, tell them I'm skinny. Tell them I'm broke, or rich, or lost, or alone. What they'll never see is the map lines. The GPS coordinates my feet have danced through. The scars on my body, like the topographic lines of an unknown place. They don't see the streams my tears have fallen through. The fences my feet have jumped. It is my story. My journey. It has been my hands 10 and 2 across the country. My knuckles clenched in anger. My stomach flipping in unease. The butterflies shooting from my heart; soaring to the moon. Close calls, whispered words, pillow flips, lunges through time. Your compass is not mine. Mine doesn't point north. It points straight to my heart, into my soul. Reflecting in my brown eyes, written in my words.
Post a Comment
Read more