Love is:
I.
mother’s eyes of 5 decades and eight staring into my clustered chest of many feelings and saying she does not worry
too much.
II.
all of her torn selves from years flipping too harshly, touching too rough
gathered in her soul’s basket reassuring mine
“you’ll be torn too
but fewer than mine
and you will heal too”
III.
the easy laughter at the misfortunes
folding around us like arms on door knobs, holding too tightly, sometimes
yanking, letting go abruptly
IV.
mother’s legs spread like melting cheese
in a chef’s pan. simmering to heat for someone else’s dinner. Never burning the eaters lips.
mother is:
I.
love carefully handwritten for my reading
II.
love. forever here
III.
always on her way
a mail I wrestle from the bearer’s fingertips
IV.
a secret I keep unspoiled by the world.
and she will never die.
© Awo Twumwaah 2018.
Afua Awo Twumwa 