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Dear Mama IV |
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Fiction |
Mama, I stand alone
My voice, solid, solitary
Do you hear me?
I speak for you, I trust
Do you remember me?
I speak for you, I hope
Do you feel my presence
I speak for you, I know
Your hair burns up a silver splash of years lived
Bright as the doorway eternal that coaxes your exit
The pillow soaks up your whispered thoughts
Releasing them like spurts of secret jargon
Through lips that have loved long and true
Mama, tell me, tell me alone what you think
I am your son, I alone, I with the hand so big
You, so frail, so shut away, so robbed of memory
Mama, I stand alone
Your daughters, firm and sure
They surround you, caring, loving
They surround you, giving, healing
They surround you, ready to let God
You are surrounded by the best, Mama
For a daughter's place far surpasses
All the gloss and glitter of earthly gold
Mama, I stand alone, afraid
I'm not ready to let you go.
* Written for what I perceived to be my husband's voice
as he struggled with the crisis of his mother's illness.
Baby, thanks for always letting me in,
allowing me to give you my shoulder,
and hold your opinion to the fire at the same time.
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Mkawasi Mcharo Hall |