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A
Poem for Mother
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If you haven't been told, it might be best that you don't know, child.
Reasons for secrets are often as bewitching as the secrets themselves.
But I shall tell you a truth that mustn't be forgotten,
For truths are hard to come by and even harder to believe.
But you shall listen and you shall believe and you shall know.
For I am spent and you are new, and so I shall share with you
An intricately woven tale that you will learn to weave yourself,
And take to your chest of fantasies,
And keep.
They
were girls,
Wild as banshees, soft as sirens,
But unlike most girls who were plain and bookish and sullen,
Who said "please" and "thank you" and believed it,
Who took tea with rag dolls and tied their shoes
When they came undone.
These
were girls that tamed seahorses,
Who felt the breath of salty imps on their sunburnt cheeks;
Girls who stroked the gilded bellies of sanddollars,
Who rode manatees and man o' wars made of clouds,
Who drank the wind like brandy
And let it sweeten their intoxicating lives
Of no regret.
When
they were bored,
They tied their long eyelashes to the moon
And rope-swinged into inky waves
Spread with pastel frosting.
Or else they bridled the breeze
And taught it lullabies.
But
they were seldom bored,
For when they weren't shooting pixie stix of pollen
At passing schools of bees,
They were looting mango trees,
And dispersing dandylion seeds
With their baby breath,
Or putting on flowers for twilight poker games with Fate
And decorating their hair with fireflies.
But
Fate played dirty
And without wanting to or needing to,
They grew up
And shook the fireflies from their tresses
And covered their racing stripes
With dresses.
They
became keepers of houses,
Bankers, bakers, teachers,
Preachers, drivers, writers, magicians,
Lovers, fighters,
And mothers.
One
of these girls
Was your mother.
The same mother that folds and kneads,
And needs.
Hasn't she told you how the clouds are more playful
Than ten thousand trampolines?
Pity her if she can't remember when the sun kissed
And she kissed back.
Pity her
If she does.
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