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sometimes

sometimes when I open my mouth, my mother comes out.
this shocked me, at first
though I see I can look upon it
as a gift

 

born of her flesh
I have listened to her heart

from the inside
and now her voice speaks

through me.

 

she comes out as sound, an intonation
as a punctuated force of emotion.

she comes out as a pregnant silence

that originates in the abyss of my womb.

it portends a bursting forth of unalloyed pleasure in the form of exuberant laughter
or sometimes,
an ancestral cry,

a tormenting howl of the deepest pain.

(she always said I sounded like a banshee)

 

ban she? oh no.
not possible.
the pure potency of her love is too strong, too steadfast to ever be silenced or kept undercover for long.

she is a force of nature.

and that’s the way I love her.

 

she comes out as utter sass,

full cheek, left and right.
she comes out in a soft whisper

and a patient sigh.
she comes out in a song

hummed under her breath.
she comes out with a grrrrr!

of frustrated angst.
she comes out as a giggle,

a girlish dialect of fun.
she comes out with a rhetorical question

‘I am, am I?’

 

sometimes she comes slowly
consciously bringing forth the best of her heart’s wisdom.
at other times, with lightning speed,

like a whip, she comes and cracks

at any hint of dishonesty or hidden agenda.

 

I am learning

to let it all be music to my ears.
for she is composed of the finest notes
arranged in an exceptionally creative progression
always expressing, essentially,
nothing but love

and I hope that she sees,

that she hears, that she knows,
that that same love
is what she is.

therein lies the gift.