Yo Mama
As a mother,
You will never be a job, an obligation,
nor a missed deadline for an abortion.
You ain't gotta audition to be accepted by me and
I will love you without conditions so you’d know that love doesn’t require any.
You will never bear the name Jesus, a cross, or be a burden ‘cuz
you are my salvation and I’ll crucify anyone who prays on yo’ downfalls.
You are born of a goddess and if God himself don’t wanna answer my prayers,
I’ll bleed my own blood just to cover you in my protection.
When you lay ya’ head at night,
you ain’t gotta worry about the monsters underneath ya’ bed or
the ones trying to get underneath ya’ sheets
‘cuz ya mama gone show them how she mastered her demons.
‘Cuz as ya’ ma,
the only thing you have to hide in the closet are yo’ diaries.
I’ll even let you keep a few secrets in them
so long as they don’t remain in the dark.
My mouth will be a bear hug of affirmations so that you won’t have to turn
to a pill, bottle, or sex to be yo’ confidant.
My ears won’t load yo’ feelings into the barrel of my tongue to shoot you
down when I get upset with you.
Instead, I’ll shoot you higher than any Leggo set Mommy or
Daddy will buy you for ya’ birthday or Christmas sets.
I’ll aim higher than the noses of them people that will look down on yo’ greatness.
I'll gun down any expectations that they try to put on yo’ black skin ‘cuz chile, you…
You are the child I wish I could have been
and I am the parent I wish I always had.
‘Cuz as ya’ ma,
I’ll teach you how to be loved before I teach how to give it.
I’ll love you down but I’ll still chew you up if you’ve done wrong by somebody else.
I’ll teach you the difference between what’s
right from wrong, biased to validation, from spectrum to technicalities
so that violence and frustration won’t be yo’ path to wisdom.
Even though we’ll have our ups and downs and not every memory will involve a smile,
I promise to emancipate the trauma left before me so you
won’t have to look forward to yo’ independence day.
Just ‘cuz I became a master of life,
don’t mean I have to be a massa in yours.
‘Cuz as ya’ ma,
I pray that I reach the grave before you do so
that my funeral doesn’t feel like closure for the answers
and apologies you’ve never received.
I know I will never be the perfect mother and
I know I’ll make some mistakes down the road,
but at least I lived knowing I wasn’t dead to you beforehand.
Originally published in The B’K Volume 16, Issue #1
