Thursday, December 24, 2009

"Memo To My Mother"

I am honored to participate in a flourishing exercise of "30 in 30". This is a challenge, not a contest, presented to the few willing to take it upon their duties to create thirty poems in thirty days in anyway way, shape, or form, no strenuous and strict rules, starting December 15th, 2009, through January 13th, 2010. (Twitter hashtag #30in30)

Here's #10 of 30 of the "30 in 30" project

Ifeanyi Okoro II (CopperSoul)
Houston, Tx

This bitter winter wind whistles
Calls like she did in volume
Offering me an early sleep
To wake up in the morning
And give me gifts
On a day that I now can't stomach
Where I turn a head
And cough
At the physical abuse given
To celebrate a dismantling of histories
And customs
And cultural significance
Now I receive these Maroon and White Texas A&M sweaters
And nice fighting games
And toys that revolve around justice
And watch Sparkle
Wondering what would I eat all day
If the Aggies would win against the "Golden Domers" of Notre Dame
If they would get over the burgundy and gold spearheads of Florida State
And what entails to me getting these things
Now that I believe in nothing more
Than what she was showing me subliminally

Then I recall when she had me with her at the library at "The Hill"
And I'd go to the fourth floor
Digging my heels deep in Greek mythology
Sitting in silence
To myself
Wondering about frank Athena Franklin
And Kool Hercules
Mixing my hip hop beat boxing
With my knowledge kicking steeze
She loved the fact that I could usurp books
Like Gwendowlyn Brooks does short poems
Noted for Ali's talk and Frazier's hooks
Gave me Friendware and Tandy candy
Information treats that I now see
Daily upon my seat here, before you all
On the damn Internet
Who knew that she would be so much like I was
So much like she was
So much like we once were?

And now she watches as she always did
Even when she was blind
And I had my greatest years in front
And my trials behind
In track and testimony in church
In basketball and performing poetry on stage
In saying how much I resemble Elder Abney
Although she never met the man with her sight
She supported me in baseball
And was on my ass about my grades
PTA
CYA
GPA
And even what would I be?
On NBC, or getting my degree?

Grew up a choir boy and playing bad guitar
Creating Lego themes and drawing art like stars
I was destined to draw and do French
Wear glasses and be a child-loving being
Become scholarly and maintain through the struggle
Help out my sister
Even when she caused the trouble
Support my relationship when it crumbles like bread crumbs
Withstand the weather, whether
Blistering hot or cold dead numb
Love my people here no matter the rights and wrongs
Love my heritage and own where I belong
Named me after my father and grandfather
Kept me as if I was just her own
And when she decided that she did just enough for me
She packed her things
And went home.

Rest with the ancestors, Dorcas Jo Okoro! Love you, mom!
12/7/54 - 1/11/04


© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

2 comments:

Nicole said...

Your mother loves this...I'm sure of it.

Copper Soul said...

This is greatly appreciated. I send great praise and best of wishes to your family. They (our mothers) are smiling above, eh?