for the love

for the ones whose love is fierce as a mother

in august of 2020  
in north carolina heat,
a woman holding a child
stepped off the curb in a graveyard
and fell. 


she didn’t know it was a curb.
she was blinded by tears and
her mask and was tripped
by that impossible lip
of cement in the cemetery
where her grandfather
was being laid to rest.


see her as she falls—
not forward as one might assume,
but rotating, 
turning, 
curling in
the child close to her chest.


it was instinct that led
to the fracture of her elbow
and the bloodying of her knee
and the embarrassing tossing 
of her skirt above her waist.


but the child got up
without a scratch. 


and isn’t that 
what Mothers do? 


eleven months later
she gave birth to two babies in
two different ways,
double the pain,
and she? 
she endured them both. 
for the children—
for the love. 


she cried out:
asking for help
asking for relief—
they only asked her 
“do you want to go to sleep?”


‘NO.’ she said, angry
that they suggested it. 
disgusted by doctors 
and anesthesiologists 
who didn’t know her
or understand her 
or why she said it.


they thought
the pain was not 
so bad. 


                  it was.


but she was the Mother
who turned elbow out
to scrape and fracture 
on asphalt
to protect the child. 


she the Mother 
who kept watch all night
with the child doubled over in pain. 


she the Mother 
who would lose life and limb 
for more than just her blood—
for all she loved—
for the love.


she the Mother 
and the daughter of Mothers
who faced court rooms and police officers,
who faced the faces of men they loved
as they turned them away.
who faced illness and fears in foreign lands 
for the sake of the few 
who faced poverty and abuse for the sake 
of those they loved—


SHE— the Mother:


and they saw the inside of her but not all the way inside because if they had, the fire would have blinded them like the rage she felt when she saw the bruises on her daughter’s arm; the arm they yanked and pulled because they did not, could not believe in the strength of this Mother and her Daughter and all that they would become. 


SHE—Mother and Daughter
survived. 
     her boy too.


her elbow hurts 
when the storm comes in
and when autumn arrives.
and her c-section scars ache 
with the memory of all 
that was done to her. 


but she is a Mother. 
and for the love
she will do 
whatever it takes.  

This poem is from my collection of love and loss poetry entitled as the Sparrow flies. You can click here to learn more or to purchase your copy today.