I wrote this poem for a class (Women’s Lives Into Literature) last year about my mom. Today is her birthday, so I thought I should share. I hope you enjoy it.

Mother

It is no wonder

That the first God that we see

Is often our mothers.

We come into the world

Solely dependent upon them.

If she is a good one,

We feel loved.

If she is a bad one,

We crave love.

As we get older,

We separate.

She is no longer

All knowing

Or

Ever present

Or

All good

In fact,

She is often wrong.

We are often at odds.

I don’t know when

I began to despise

My own mother

But

I did.

We were so close

In age.

We grew up together.

But we grew apart.

Always at odds.

I don’t recall the moment

That we stopped fighting.

But we did.

One day, I looked up and we were friends

My mother and I –

I was very surprised.

She wasn’t.

When my daughter had brain surgery,

And began having seizures

In the hospital,

I was there alone.

I sent a text to my mother

To tell her.

I would swear that only fifteen minutes had passed

Although that’s not possible

She was 45 minutes away.

But it was like

She had a super power that day.

When she walked through that hospital door.

Just to be with me

To be a support

And we sat on the couch in the room

My mother and I –

My daughter sedated,

The room quiet

My heart thankful

That this woman

Gave me her strength

And that I could receive it

And as a result

Be strong.

Tenisia Davis – August 2017