Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Matriarch

My mother is a tree with roots, branches and leaves.
My mother's roots break concrete and dig deep into our city,
they find life water past the sewers,
Yea, my mother finds love,
 and goes through a lot of shit to do so.
My mother's roots are as Irish as potatoes and whiskey,
as Irish as wooden spoon swords and oat meal,
as Irish as fire and poetry,
and she fed me through those roots.
My mother's roots raised me not to lift hands in anger,
My mother's roots love the earth that surrounds them,
My mother's roots weather storms and cataclysms,
My mother's roots are stubborn,
My mother's roots do not give up,
My mother's roots find hope in the darkness.

My mother is a tree with roots, branches and leaves.
My mother's branches reach out into the sky,
seeking to catch falling angels before they hit the ground.
My mother's branches spread out to entangle other trees,
creating cradles in the forest.
My mothers branches dip low,
almost touching the ground,
so that they might be climbed by kids searching for heaven.
My mother's branches are shelter from the summer,
My mother's branches are worship and prayer,
My mother's branches protect me,
My mothers branches are a home when I dont deserve one,
My mother's branches do not accept excuses,
My mother's branches are strong enough to hold up a world.
My mother's branches never forget, but always forgive.

My mother is a tree with roots, branches and leaves.
My mother's leaves do not fall, they float.
The orange touch of autumn is not feared or loathed
See my mother teaches her leaves that for everything there is a season,
but in that admission she sees no reason
to ever accept anything less than justice and love,
My mother loves her leaves like they will never leave her,
My mother's leaves will eventually leave her
My mother's leaves will never be left by her,
My mother's leaves are lifted to be fed by sunshine and freedom,
My mother's leaves catch the wind at just the right angle,
so that they might hear it whisper of beauty and change,
My mother's leaves are unlike that of any other tree,
My mother's leaves love the ground beneath them,
as if from the moment they first tasted air,
they knew that the world was limited and precious,
as if they had been taught about grace and hope and courage,
as if they had grown on a tree,
that loved unconditionally.




1 comment:

  1. Awesome Ammon! I'm gonna post this to our church site. The moms in my church here in Durham are like this poem, but YOUR mom included the ferocity of a mother's love with the insistence of non-violence. Exceedingly helpful and freeing.
    I'm so grateful you are doing this blog...and love the write up. It reminded me of something I read recently: "When one door closes...Open it...it's a door!
    Peace,
    Mary Grace
    Peace to you all,
    Mary

    ReplyDelete