I began motherhood with a child's image of motherhood.
Thank God I found out differently and adjusted the painting.... in time.
I rejected my mother's old mothering tapes
And re- scripted my mother anew.
I built up an image with paper- mache
I made her from clay script and scraps.
I painted her perfect with the sweetest of looks
And gave her a pretty clown face .
I filled in with scratches her thin model form
With Crayola's bright colors and paint.
I colored her skin in a bright rainbow splash.
Then I added mute notes soft and pure
I braided her hair in a mass of curled strokes.
I recreated my mother my way.
I poured all of my joy in her grimace and sighs
This way she will never be sad
I replaced her frown lines with the smoothest of brows
And gave her the softest curved lips.
I laced kind new thoughts into sentence with verbs
Poured affection in her harsh cruel words
I silk wrapped her voice with a sweet lullaby
Perfected in tone with great pitch.
I erased all mad traces of chill from her eyes
Put life in her heart and blank stares
With affectionate colors, so gay and so bright
I made mother my very best friend.
By rejecting old motherhood mothering ways
And constructing my motherhood anew
By filling it up with just kisses and smiles
Will I succeed in my mothering days?
By fulling this image with my best fantasies
Wished longings for what ought to be.
I made motherhood young, as a bonny face doll.
Did I paint wise old motherhood wrong?
Poetry by Kulanga
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Written on 2007-03-30 at 18:44
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