Thinking of Her Makes Me Cry, Damn It - Happy Friggin' Mother's Day. (rwp #26 )
In a breath, she encompasses
everything I've ever known of
Womanhood.
How I would have died in her shoes
How I would have quaked and melted
Crowbarred from her
at eighteen.
But on and on she travelled
In those shoes
And I live most moments
In a parallel wish, hoping
to be a fraction of her
strength and persistence.
An actual, real life, woman.
And is it not what I am?
Ripening, as I am,
My youth in transition
Hers as radiant as when I was born.
We're two women.
It's almost hard to think
But it's true - We're two women.
And I can scarcely think
What calamity will befall
That word - woman -
Now that I, too, am allowed
to claim it.
All her work. All my mess.
Sidling along Lilburn together -
In our same-ish sized feet
We'll walk and drive and curse
The Sunday Buicks on Five Forks
We'll snort and bellow
Bad Goodbye, Walking After Midnight -
Get off the road!
We're coming through!
I'm coming through!
I'm coming home.
I'm coming home!
And I'll clean up.
I'll make it right.
I'll take the couch and
the dishes and I'll be home late
But up early, and I won't mess it up.
I promise.
Happy Mother's Day
annnndd an untitled one I wrote for my mom two years ago that I dug up for the occasion...
in an instant, forgiving, blessed with
forthought and forward thinking
protection in the coil of an arm
the sense with which you grasp
the finer attributes of gracious living
finishing touches at the start
loving, living, lifting,
pointing all the way in each
direction, I see you, Mom.
and you see us in yourself.
everything I've ever known of
Womanhood.
How I would have died in her shoes
How I would have quaked and melted
Crowbarred from her
at eighteen.
But on and on she travelled
In those shoes
And I live most moments
In a parallel wish, hoping
to be a fraction of her
strength and persistence.
An actual, real life, woman.
And is it not what I am?
Ripening, as I am,
My youth in transition
Hers as radiant as when I was born.
We're two women.
It's almost hard to think
But it's true - We're two women.
And I can scarcely think
What calamity will befall
That word - woman -
Now that I, too, am allowed
to claim it.
All her work. All my mess.
Sidling along Lilburn together -
In our same-ish sized feet
We'll walk and drive and curse
The Sunday Buicks on Five Forks
We'll snort and bellow
Bad Goodbye, Walking After Midnight -
Get off the road!
We're coming through!
I'm coming through!
I'm coming home.
I'm coming home!
And I'll clean up.
I'll make it right.
I'll take the couch and
the dishes and I'll be home late
But up early, and I won't mess it up.
I promise.
Happy Mother's Day
annnndd an untitled one I wrote for my mom two years ago that I dug up for the occasion...
in an instant, forgiving, blessed with
forthought and forward thinking
protection in the coil of an arm
the sense with which you grasp
the finer attributes of gracious living
finishing touches at the start
loving, living, lifting,
pointing all the way in each
direction, I see you, Mom.
and you see us in yourself.