A Poem for My Mom

It’s mother’s day tomorrow, so I’d like to dedicate a new piece of spoken word to my very own mom! Click read more to see the text of the poem.
My mother didn’t teach me to pluck my eyebrows (although she taught me not to dry shave my legs).
She didn’t teach me to blend eye shadow or find the apple of my cheeks,
but she taught me to look you in the eyes when I speak.
My mother didn’t take me jogging –
but we liked to go for hikes,
breathing in what the trees exhale,
seeing flowers and rocks and never checking our pulse
because the salt of our sweat was not to earn dessert.

My mother told me I’m beautiful,
but she also laughed at my jokes,
and taught me how to be useful.
She showed me that love transcends looks,
that she liked my ideas, believed in my dreams.
She shared her true self with my young self so I knew where to aim my growing up:
not for glamour or power, but for
confidence in the Rock I’m built on;
quickness to pray, to sing, to forgive;
calmness and kindness in the face of frustrations, even my own.

My mother has stopped dying her hair,
displaying through silver strands and shades of grey that the past
colours the present,
that experience yields badges of beauty that cannot be bought:
creases to mark where our smiles have been and where laughter has danced;
breasts that rest against our chests with the memory of babies fed night after day after night
growing strong and loved;
legs shaped by years of stooping and standing and lifting our frames
bearing laundry and dishes and vacuums and young ones,
of crouching and jumping and dancing
and putting one foot in front of the other through hard times.
My mother is crowned with dignity and strength, by a crown that grows year after year,
jewelled with courage and selflessness and gratitude and ever growing grace.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!