My mother was a verified miracle.

 

My mother was church door where millions entered.

My mother was tower where four kestrels roosted –

my mother was hooded, she plunged and she hovered.

She flew at the speed of the wind, oh

my mother had wings and her voice was an organ,

she was seraph and cherub and throne and dominion.

My mother was bright with flame.

 

My mother was saint and my mother was martyr

and she was the light floating over the water.

My mother was whale and I rode safe inside her –

I was blessed and I came out clean

for my mother was sermon and she was the mountain

and she was the tree and the nails and the Roman

and her rafters were oak and her stone was all golden.

 

My mother said Let there be light

and she was the light. My mother was fruit

and we peopled the earth in her name

for my mother was sun and my mother was thunder.

My mother would get at the truth if it killed her –

she laid waste to the nations for me did my mother

and I could not run from her love

 

for my mother was choir, she was every bird singing

and she was the song and will not be forgotten.

My mother was angel, my mother was fallen.

She suffered the children and fed them on nothing.

My mother was bread

and my mother was broken

and she was the ark. She was darkness. The ocean.