Mothers Day

In the late eighties my mother joined my father in Dakar, Senegal for his sabbatical. It was here that my mother, Felicia, decided to take French lessons after several difficulties taking taxis and making purchases. See, my mom likes to bargain, and imagine doing that in a land where one does not speak the language. She would break her English up into the oddest sequences, mix her phrases up with Ghanaian languages and variations of pidgin spoken in Ghana, gesticulate wildly with insertions of excusez moi, all to no avail. So she enrolled in class and was given a French poem to learn: La Lune. My mother who loves poetry, applied herself zealously to her homework especially as the verbs and other disciplines overwhelmed her. I have written a poem for her on this celebration of Mothers Day. I bless my mother for having me.

Mother Life

I began

By force of explosion

A flame and fusion

In a trinity of ideas

A union of wind, water and earth

And an electric pulse

That never gave up

Intent or velocity

Dividing, differentiating, organizing

Moment by moment

In secrecy and utmost care

Sending signals which then changed

My mother forever

Like a seed in the earth

Making demands on nitrogen, water and air

And also and in time,

Light…

Love received me

After midnight and a shout

To suck and gaze and hold and squeeze

My need from you

All of you

From the crib inside

To the cradle on your back

I learn the rhythms of life

Sleep and wake

Work and play

Love and snuggle

Resist and withstand

In the songs you sing by day and night

Then by your side

Your guiding hand

Your trusty words, tried and true

You feed, you teach, applaud, rebuke

You save, you cover

Until danger has passed

And if ever you failed

Offside in the game

It was because you were real

And God has covered that, too

My mother