The last time I was home
I didn’t spend much time with my
Mom
With Mother’s Day around the
corner
I sit and ponder about which
presents to get her
When I ask her what she would
like
Her response is always the same
Happy children
How is it that someone could be
so selfless
Always thinking of others above
herself
I wish I knew then
What I know now
Mothers are always right, even
when we think they’re wrong
Mothers are our biggest fans
Mothers are our true best friend
Mothers will never betray us
Mothers love is unconditional
Mothers care for us when we are
sick
Mothers tell us stories before
bed
Mothers cut our meat and butter
our toast
A mother is such a special
person
I wish I valued her the way I do
now, sooner
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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
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