Today I Love My Mother More

Today, I love my mother more;

Not only because she had once bathed me
With the warmest of her blood; and held me
With the coldest grip of her hands.
Her blood—so warm it made my father forgot his name.
So cold and gripping it moved him closer to God—
More than her snapping finger and groaning voice.

Not only because she sang like wrens at night
When fear nights their presence in the soft compound
Of my younger skin. Not because she is proud
Of what I am becoming or what she craves to know
About who I would eventually be or become.

Not only because she’s worthy of being reminisced
With the death of every second, with the birth
Of every minute, with every going of what moment
I don’t know, but has come, gone and passed.

Today I love my mother…