Over the Hills, Across the Sea

at too young she left
nothing in the pocket but me
a knife between her teeth
even her tongue wasn't at home
on the scorching hot sun

i don't even remember
all the times she carried me
it's as they say anyways,
'you don't see the footsteps of god alongside you'
when you needed them most

i've never seen footsteps but i've seen the sea in her eyes
endless, tempered and swelling
with the spectrum of life, of love

it was love that made her, a compass
diogenes never found an honest man by lamplight
the fool should've searched beyond his time--
the strength of ten anchors;
aisle 5, trying to build heaven for her girls

it is the softest loudest love
crafted and grown,
everyday you made the universe
on placemats and stitches and clippings of magazines
she taught without shame or pretense
how to fumble, how to laugh, how to carry on
most of all--
how to accept nothing less than love

i've never seen god but i've seen my mother
waiting with bull's horns to cross any side of eden
armed with food for mine, for yours and a prayer

i find the fire in me now as i grow
and as she did, i will harness it, create with it
dousing the messes i make as i go
thankful for the lessons in the stormy crowds: barrel through
hell, speak loudly
seek what resonates

tides come and go but the sea never rests
for the greatest gift--
as my branches reach out i can smell the spray
dawning now how much will it took for her,
what it takes

i don't remember how many times she carried me,
but promise i will never forget;
i am full of love in spite of a world of harsh truth
awed by the beauty of the now
all because of she:
my mother, the face of god