Feed the mama
Feed the mama
red potatoes from the earth
yellow-orange butter from cows on green pastures.
Give her books to devour
with ideas she digests a syllable at a time
to see how they taste.
Feed the mama
friends in the afternoon
cups of coffee, babies nursing
girl, I’ve been there, too
Give her letters from her grandmother
love poems from her true love
hand-written in the steam of smudged shower glass.
Tell her sit down a moment —
those dishes will wait
patiently, even
if you give them a chance.
Feed her
moments of quiet where
all she can hear
is the longing, hopeful prayer in her heart.
Give her a corner to craft in;
a garden to dig
a bathtub to sink in her toes.
Feed the mama
the soul food of generations
stories of her heritage
the inheritance of her past.
Give her the hands of women
who have been there before her;
helping her up,
cheering her on.
Feed the mama
a diet of wholeness
with what nourishes her body,
and the baby at her breast;
the tired toddler at her knee;
the growing boy at her side
who looks more and more
like his Daddy each day.
Feed the mama —
plant her close by the water,
with roots that grow deep and firm in the stream.
Give her sunshine on her cheeks,
a Spring rain shower on her shoulders
as she walks barefoot to the mailbox
on a Wednesday evening.
Feed the mama,
take care of the caretaker,
for she is what she eats
and she gives what she is.
Feed the mama,
feed her well,
let her be full of love.