Dear Momma

Dear Momma,

A strong momma. A beautiful momma.

Strong back, for carrying us through the trenches.

Kissing our boo-boos and making us sandwiches for lunch.

So visionary you are. As you braid our hair in the kitchen while watching the Television at the same time.

Through the generations momma, you have been strong.

At times you punished us but it was all done in love.

“Go get me that switch off that tree!” You would scream.

After the whoopin was done you would teach us a life lesson and hug us so tightly.

You will fix us a nice dinner plate and say...

“It hurt me more than it hurt you.”

And that might be true. Your own prized possession you had to discipline but still, it hurt to do so.

But momma, strong and beautiful.

The jazz music taps on the piano cords as Heaven dances to the way you laugh and talk. The way you sing and the way you wear your crown up top.

Wearing Sunday hats, coordinating the squad to wear the same. Straight 10’s, head to toe.

Candy in your purses and you give us some, not caring what the pamphlet says.

Generations and the black momma’s skin never cracks, no matter how many times you stepped on a sidewalk crack. That ain’t breaking their backs, they’re used to carrying the world on their shoulders and carrying a little world inside their wombs for 9 months.

We owe you a lot momma. Working a 9-5 and still coming home to make us dinner momma.

Going to the sporting events and cheering at the top of your lungs momma. Ready to fight somebody if one of the opponents just taps my arm momma.

No drama momma, no fuss momma. Lowering your voice so only we can hear you. Either in trouble or getting praised, we know the calls from our momma.

So beautiful, so strong momma.

No drama no fuss momma.

At the reception, I will save the first dance for you momma.

Turn you round as they see my momma's angelic glow.

The clay you were carved from must have been a rarity. Searching for hours for the same pieces of clay but you were the only one they were able to find.

The artist has taken their time on you. Carefully holding the pot as it rotated around. Making sure every edge was smooth and true meaning burst from each spot.

The artist putting themselves into their creation and thus inside of you. The work is done, well done, it is finished! Take a rest, take some time to relax momma.

As we read this letter to you, momma, allow it to marinate and caress your soul in a warm embrace. The same embrace you gave us as we were small little humans looking into a big celling light from a hospital bed.

Where were you momma?

You were right there envisioning our future together. You said it’s ok baby don’t cry. One day I will kiss your boo-boos and teach you how to fly. I will watch your sports games and scream from the sideline. I will dance so much on your wedding day, it will seem as if I was the one being married off.

My children you are my world. A momma’s warm love is here for you and only you. Carved from the potter’s best and the potter decided to give me you and I gave you me.

As the universe continues to move, our love for you momma will continue on. Like a song that never ends and a dance that just begins.