I wish I could write a glowing tribute
To my mother who almost died to give me life.
Her being a good mother no one would dispute
But my world still seemed filled with strife.
Every Sunday morning, and every Wednesday night
Would find the two of us at some church event.
Mother was always serving, doing what was right.
Helping others was her joy, their sadness she’d prevent.
Many times she came between my father’s fist and me.
Often taking the brunt of his anger and his rage.
But she never once complained about how things came to be.
Nor her own war against the odds did she ever wage.
She not only raised me, her only natural child
But took in over thirty children who’d been cast aside.
No matter what, her temperament remained mild.
She raised us all, eased our pains, held us when we cried.
Then while spending the night with a group of friends
I got the call no one ever wants to receive.
I never had the chance, you see, with her to make amends.
I was only nineteen years old and had to learn to grieve.
I don’t remember much about the woman who gave me life
Except the fact she gave so much to others, leaving little for herself.
So when I became a mother and a wife,
All I could do was show them her picture on the shelf.
I lost her quite a while ago, last January was thirty six years.
Sometimes I remember little things she taught me during my youth.
And when I stop and try to remember, I am overcome by tears.
For the one thing I remember about mother is she always stood for truth.
©Regina2009
