A Poem For My Mother

tumblr_n2rbojSdVX1s7sbgzo1_500A poem for my mother,
Seems almost too grand, too precious to
Solely place on parchment.
Watch as I etch my love for her across the night sky-each tear she shed holding me tight, catching me as I fell, praying for my health, loving me from afar-each tear, I name a star, for her love is wider, endless like the night sky:

A bundle of joy, smelling of sweet pine and lemon, blooming and nurtured in a life feeding on chaos, I could have faltered, fell with Lucifer’s ease-If it were not for you Mother. A Mother takes her flesh, round and bursting with magic and life, and selflessly gives it to her child, her tears silent as we take out first breath.

I knew I was a handful-small and wrinkled, slimy and screaming, but I was yours, your baby, your gift sent directly from God- how can one doubt the Lord when there is such miracles like times like this? Your love kept my heart beating, your words of love gave breath to my lungs as my screams pierced the air.

Your little Princess with scraped knees and wild hair, I knew I was a handful- refusing to wear skirts, always dirty, and unafraid of adventure, I must have given you some fright. But those memories I hold dearest to my heart, for I watched you struggle, the tears you shed, the love that bled profusely for me. Such tender words are almost foreign to me, how am I, soft and still growing, tell you, this warrior woman, that everything thing will be okay?

Puberty-well I knew for a fact that I was a handful. All these unwarranted emotions flooded through me day and night- I could no longer sleep peacefully, tears clogging my throat and I did not know why. We fought with such animalistic rage, so hurtful…I was no longer the happy girl, no longer the baby girl from your flesh, I became my own woman as we shouted and cried- a woman that I needed to learn, a woman that was foreign and too strange.

I am a full woman now, school always on my mind, my future beating too close to my heart, my head straight and my eyes lucid but I know I am still a handful. It’s a scary world out there and I’m still, strangely, your baby. When I put my big girl pants on, your breathe must catch in your throat- to see how far I’ve become and how much more growing I still have to go.

Well, I just want to say, you need not worry, you raised me right.

I love you, mommy.

  1. Beautifully written. Very earthy. I’m sure your mother would be proud to read this. I hope you are having a great weekend. Warmest regards!

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Thank you so much, I appreciate your kind words and I hope the same for you 😀

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. Your more than welcome. Thank you kindly. The same to you. Great to meet you. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and a Safe and Happy new year!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Your welcome and same to you too! 😀

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

#Speak

Break the silence. End the violence.

Flash 365

"Oh! Take a shit, read a story" - My Mother on Flash Fiction

Free to express

thoughts, experiences, travel, feelings, stories, diaries and many more...

The Lonely Reader

Books, Short Stories, and Poetry

Writer To Writers

Creative Writing Ideas And Writing Prompts

The Wandering Broski

Travel Blog - Europe and the USA

Love Travelling

Travel diaries providing inspiration for fellow travellers

sweetdevil69

Welcome to my world that I created with my imagination & emotions

Rajiv Chopra

A Gypsy, Bismillah & Esmerelda The Spider Sit With Yama At The Vaitarna

School of Dreams

A school to show you that your dreams are real and teach you how to live them

A Poet's Pen

Before the story is forgotten, etch the words into a work of permanence.

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

Venwhen?

"2 Thousand"

spokenblackgirl.wordpress.com/

Mental Health & Black Womanhood

Glam Meets Girl

Irish Based Fashion & Beauty Blog

she's a seeker

It's never too late to seek.

breakfastclubfilms

There's no place like home.

%d bloggers like this: