you look so much like your mother! oh, you look just like your mom when she was your age! you have your momma’s eyes, her nose, her lips! you and your mom are just like twins, aren’t you!

i look like my mom. my mom doesn’t like the way she looks.

she’s too heavy, the diets don’t work, she can’t lose weight, she doesn’t want to be in pictures, she is uncomfortable in her own skin.

if i look like her, what does that say about me? will i end up in the same boat as her, unhappy and projecting my insecurities?

i look like my mom. my mom doesn’t like the way she looks.

One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.

Just lately,  just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
Mammy
A breeze furled the window sheers.

The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:
Brigid...........Nellie

I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.

(Spoken affectionately)
I see the ink’s run dry
But the words piled high
Search for a page

I remember her then
Not now and again
But always

(Scots)
Ma’ shelter when it rains
The blood in ma’ veins
Andrina

(Liverpudlian)
Wipin’ sleep from me eye
Straightenin’ me tie
Fussin’ about me

(Nicely)
Your mother should know
Well where did she go?
Nowhere.

she opened her handbag and
tipped the contents onto the floor --
a pack of gum, a lip gloss, a torn
wrapper of a Used ******, a gun --
a .38 stub nose --
my purse! she gasped --
all her night's earnings and a doctor's prescription,
Gone!
she gave out a huge -- sigh --
how can one never win even for at least
once. once!
her infant cried. she carried her
in her cold arms, as she cried with her in
short sobs.
she Cursed
under her breath

I see the way
She cradles you
With arms filled with tender love.

I see the way
She looks at you
With a wealth of
Love and affection flowing naturally.

Autumn, she loves you
Beyond measure.

When she speaks about you,
I can hear the pride in her words
And the excitement that comes
From knowing she is your mother.

When I was born the theme for the shower was Noah’s Ark, which if you don’t know is the story of hundreds and thousands of People being drowned by their father because He made them in a way that He knew He had no choice but to hate.
And because He had the power.
I always think this is a strange inheritance
To give a Child:
Countless mothers, thrashed against rocks and stones and trees that grow seed-bearing fruit, Grandparents scraped against the sides of cities, Sisters sputtering when lungs burn up with water.  Chaos everywhere. Pallid bodies floating over dark depths. Waves bigger than mountains, surging over clouds. Growing with the torrent. And worst by far, Wailing that is louder than the onslaught
of rain in sheets the size of seas.
When I go home I wince at blankets and baubles
Plastered with smiling elephants, giraffes and dolphins, blushing two-by-two.
That is just like my mother
to look at the tempest that killed everyone alive
and see the animals

My mom is mischievously, mysterious,
    with her momentum.
But perfectly perpetuating her
    purpose on earth.
Never wavering wondering, or
    wishing for it all.
Only knowing.

She is in her palace.
Filling her chalice.
Toughening the callus,
That's needed..

Necessary negativity to neutralize,
        The highs and balance the lows.
Candidly correcting the corrupt
         With a simple smile.
Lifting the leveled and the loveless,
          With ease.

There is no tail,
That could make a wail.
Only mine of I fail,
But, I won't walk that trail.

I'll take the teachings and trials,
      She will give.
Learning love and limits
      With a laugh.
I just want to say,
       Thank you
For my life and the love you've given.
       You're perfect, just for me.

I waited on many mothers with their daughters today.
my last table had a prada shopping bag with them.
they stayed an hour after my shift ended.
did they think
I didn't have a mother
waiting at home?
...
of course, my mother wasnt at home.
she, too,
waited on many mothers with their daughters today.
i wonder if she realizes,
in another life,
we would be at the table
with a prada shopping bag
too.
give me a few years, mom.
we'll get there.