Wednesday, December 26, 2012


She calls me Mama
And I call her
My little girl.

It had always been
Her and me, and
When we first met
She almost killed me.

Out of my womb
She came and with
My love, she almost
Took my life, but
It was her cries
That kept me earthbound.

With no husband,
With no close family,
I knew she would
Have no one if
I were to pass
Without even saying

She would call me strict
And I would call her
Unruly, a hellion,
But my hellion
And then we would
Fall into laughter as
We knew we were cast
Of the same stone.

I knew what it was
like to be like her
And she knew one day
She would become
Someone like me.

I would call her naive
And she would call me
Un-trusting, never trusting
The men she loved,
The men she would
Dance with in the moonlight
And whisper things behind
Closed doors.

I would call her foolish
And she would call me
Unadventurous. "You
Never take chances,
Mama, never have fun,"
She would pout the exact
Same way she did as
A child but I knew
And accepted that
She was not a child
But a woman
Of age.

She called me Mama,
Her voice strained
As the men pulled
At her, dragging her away.

I held on,
I called to her,
My little girl,
And then there was
A loud crack
And my grip loosened,
I fell with a thud.

She called to me,

As my blood
Coated the tiles
In my courtyard,
I whispered,
"My little girl."


Victoria said...

Oh, this brought a tear to my eyes. The pain of childbirth lasts a life-time as you so aptly describe. Stunning write.

Custom Lapel Pins said...

Superb poetry...keep it up