Mother's Day

I wrote this for my wonderful Ma.


She is your first teacher, first tongue, an ark

Who carries you for nine months in the dark

A blue line, an ultrasound, then out into the light

Who watches you breathing night after night

And holds her own

She is your first home

You learn by copying her, mimicry

How to talk, to walk, to be

Generations guide her,

she is their emissary

We learn from her our mothers

And our mothers learn for us

How to be mothers

Clair Whitefield