Mom by Kimberly Stutevoss

It is very rare that I go home to 

See my parents. I know that my mom would

Like me to visit more, but I do when 

I can. We have never been close and there

Often are fights. The last time that I 

Was home we exchanged pleasantries but then

The small talk stopped and a silence enclosed

And wrapped around us making it awkward.

I remember the first time I saw her 

As a child. She could do no wrong. As small

Children we idolize our parents and 

Think that they are gods on earth. But as we 

Grow up we see their flaws and realize the 

Mistakes they may have made and that they are

Not gods, but they are human beings like 

Us. As a kid my mom read to me a 

Lot. She read all kinds of books, but my true

Favorite was the one with the quote, "I'll 

Love you for always, forever my baby 

you'll be." It is a sweet story really, 

A mother loving and caring for her 

Son and of course the mother gets older 

And it is then the son who loves and takes 

Care of the mother. When I went home I 

Noticed my mother getting older. 

It'll soon be me taking care of her 

Telling her, "I'll love you for always, for-

Ever my mother you'll be." 

________________________________

Mothers

BY NIKKI GIOVANNI

the last time i was home

to see my mother we kissed

exchanged pleasantries

and unpleasantries pulled a warm   

comforting silence around

us and read separate books

i remember the first time

i consciously saw her

we were living in a three room   

apartment on burns avenue

mommy always sat in the dark

i don’t know how i knew that but she did

that night i stumbled into the kitchen

maybe because i’ve always been

a night person or perhaps because i had wet

the bed

she was sitting on a chair

the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through   

those thousands of panes landlords who rented

to people with children were prone to put in windows   

she may have been smoking but maybe not

her hair was three-quarters her height

which made me a strong believer in the samson myth   

and very black

i’m sure i just hung there by the door

i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady

she was very deliberately waiting

perhaps for my father to come home   

from his night job or maybe for a dream

that had promised to come by   

“come here” she said “i’ll teach you   

a poem: i see the moon

               the moon sees me

               god bless the moon

               and god bless me”   

i taught it to my son

who recited it for her

just to say we must learn   

to bear the pleasures

as we have borne the pains