it was the moaning mostly
the whispered guttural base
escaped pursed lips and Sunday pink lipstick
that groan from underneath belly
granted go ahead to
say it sistah!
preach pastah!
hallelujah shouts from peppermint breath
knocked cracked leather black pumps
holding swollen ankles on wooden floors
tight fists
closed eyes
tears falling slow
bread of heaven, bread of heaven
feed me till I want no more
I remember you, Grandmama
we honor you, Auntie
negro women not hooked on simple words
like fair, justice, right
negro women who could out walk a lie on broken toes
courageous women who got a prayer through breathing a breath
deeper than the last
we come from these women
spread noses, wide feet
carry the world shoulders like theirs
lest we forget and think we carried ourselves
those are our mothers
with backwoods grammar and perfect memory
we need you now, Grandmama
our fine homes are poisen
without your wrinkled fingers
folded for breakfast prayer
there was something about
your Jesus, your John Kennedy, your Martin King
glued to dusty wood mantle
over stale candy and crystal glass bowl
your God who had the whole world in His hands in His hands
was too big to argue love, death, resurrection
Big Mama, we call on you now
forgive us please our education
our money
our everything we think we know
too good for your pork chop, your hymn book, your hot comb
put your feet in our laps, great warrior
let us massage your boiled blood
and blistered backs
we are listening, queen
all the time we heard your songs
but not really
let witch hazel leak between your fingers
rub our temples
sing your songs again
we are wiser now
those spirituals we ignored
sing them to us again
see mother? see?
our arms are not smooth like before
we have our own battle wounds now
we can hear you now
sing with you now
take us back
take us back
fo we can be baptized
again
