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.