Our Mothers (for my aunt, Birdie Lou Powell) What would we be without you? Even God herself Knows that our mothers Are miracle angels Swiping away the sun’s burns and tears With their leatherlike hands We mean Mother mom ma mommy mama mami Give birth to the earth daily Transport the moon and stars on their backs Work like hungry ancestors in orange fields Smuggle their invisible dreams in swollen ankles Sing blue songs that hang trees, double-dutch the breeze And capture the motherland in a sneeze We mean Our mothers Build and create and create and build Things Like civilizations and imaginations and love Even when they get no love themselves We mean Our mothers Are spirit and energy brushing buckets of paint Beneath our feet Means our mothers Are magicians Here even when they are not Here even when they are not Here even when they are not Thursday, May 6, 2021 10:30am © 2022 Kevin Powell from Grocery Shopping With My Mother.
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African Voices
Photo: Courtesy Kevin Powell.
