A Tribute to My Mother


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This is a poem I wrote for my mother, Vanice Sprangers. Please share it with the "moms" in your life who deserve a thank you!

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A Tribute to My Mother

  1. 1. {This is for my motherA Mother’s Day tribute to the best woman I know
  2. 2. This is for my mother, (you),the woman who tucked me safeaway in her belly for nine months,withstood those awkward months ofstrangers touching her tummy,who stopped drinking coffee (or wine or soda)for those nine monthsbecause it would stunt my growth(although I am still kind of short),who spoke to me in whispers,of the blue skies and barbecues of my future,her voice a soft windthrough the amniotic-fluid fog.
  3. 3. This poem is for my mother,who sang “you are my sunshine” and other lullabiesAnd placed her worn palms upon the skin of herbelly, knowing I could feel it,her fingers and wordsforming invisible fingers inside her womb tointertwine gently with my barely-formed fingers-Her large heart sent dreams to grow inside my tinybeating heart.Her breathing created a rhythmby which I would dancethe rest of my days.
  4. 4. This poem is for my motherwho withstood labor pains and weight gain,stretch marks and walks to parks,for my mother, who knowingly brought me into a worldthat she knew she would have to spend years andyears protecting me from,catching me as I stumbled,encouraging me as I fumbled.Since I was no longer safely tucked awayin the kangaroo pouch of her womb,she carefullyswaddled me in kissesand soft pink blankets.
  5. 5. She would wake up when the moonwas still bright and high in the sky,to sing me lullabies,singing “hush little baby, don’t say a word”-Mama’s gonna buy you…a pacifier, no Mama’s gonna help to curb your desireto cry when the world doesn’t give you what you want…immediately,Yes, Mama’s gonna teach youthat no matter how much you want the moon to shine,sometimes, the clouds will cover it,And you will have to wait,Yes, you will have to wait, my child…but when it comes,when the moon howls and lights up the night sky,it will be worth all of the waiting.Don’t waste your tears on the wrong kind of light in the sky-”This poem if for my mother because she taught me how to make my ownlight to ward off the darkness of this world.
  6. 6. This poem is for my motherwho laced her calloused fingers into mineand led me through rows of white daisiesand yellow daffodils(after she picked the weeds),for my mother,who saved the biggest strawberries from the patch in the palm of herhands, just for me,who swore she “wasn’t hungry”year after year,supper after supper,so that I, (we, her children),could have the next hamburger on the plateor the last piece of chocolate cake.
  7. 7. This poem is for my mother,who drank cup after cup of coffeebecause she was woken up night after nightto hold me after bad dreams andto listen to my crazy schemesabout sandcastles I wanted to buildand rainbows I planned to find the end to…this poem is for my mother becauseshe listened…to those dreams and many, many others,and never told me the end of the rainbow…is an illusion.Thanks to my mother, I still believe I can find it.
  8. 8. This poem is for my mother,because she understood that sometimes when I fell down,she needed to let me get back upmyselfbecause she knew that some day I would falland she would not be there to pick me up-so she taught my chubby toddler legs to grow strong,strategically pried my tiny fingers off hersso that I could waddle my waythrough the tall grasses of this field of life,skin my knees and learn to bleed,but never, no never, give upno matter how muchI hurt.
  9. 9. This poem is for my mother,for the Barbie clothes she sewed from wedding dresses,for the careful brush of her fingers to removethe tresses of hair from my eyes,for the hundreds of snotty nosesshe let me wipe on her dresses,for the trips to the library and the hugs in the hallways,for the chocolate chip cookies and the helicopter spins in the park,for the snuggles on the couchand the bedtime stories for the hundredth telling.
  10. 10. This poem is for my mom,for professing to love every crayon-constructedfamily picture I made in kindergarten,every popsicle stick and messy-glue Macaroni noodle art projectI created on yellow or blue construction paper,and for convincing me each time that my scribbles were as beautiful asany Van Gogh or Monet painting,taking the time to pause from her work tonotehow perfectly I swirled the turquoise crayon into the sky I drewor the brilliance of my cotton ball clouds,for kneeling down beside me to whisper,“I love it”And“I love you”-no matter how busy she was,for giving those pictures prominence in the art gallery of our home, andnot caring if mydirty fingerprints smudged the front of that refrigerator.
  11. 11. This poem is for my mother,for holding her fingers over my tiny fingersthe first time I gripped that thick elementary school pencil,for guiding me along the dotted linesthe first time I wrote my name,for feeding me complimentsabout how good I waseven before I was good at anythingbecause Mothers see the good in us,long before the rest of the world,see the good in us even when we cannot see itinside ourselves.They love us anywayand in spite ofeverything that we are.
  12. 12. This poem is for my motherbecause every time I asked why,she answered,even if it was with a “because I said so,”because when I lost my first tooth,she put it in a plastic bag and saved it,because she combed my hair day and after dayand night after nighteven though I whined and cried, andshe never “cut it off like a boy,”even though shethreatened to(okay there was that one time),but I learned my lesson.
  13. 13. This poem is for my momwho kissed the tears off my cheeksand hugged away every monster in the closet or boogie man,whether I was five and he was under my bed,or I was twenty and he broke my heart,for the mom who took off the training wheels on my banana-seat bike and let me keep going down the block,yelling,“you can do it, you can do it”even though inside of herheart, she was whispering,“come back , come back.”She did the same thing when I left home that first time.
  14. 14. This is for my motherbecause she always lets me come back,every time I falter,every time I cry,because she exalts me for every tiny triumphand beams at me with pride, andbecause, of all the “best friends”I have ever professed to have,(and in middle school and high school that was a LOT),she has always been and will always be,the very best friend I could ever ask for,and more than I could ever deserve.
  15. 15. This poem is for my mombecause now that I am older,now that I wipe away little tears and soothe little fears,now that I point out constellations andtake backyard-only vacations,now I know,yes,now I know,all that she gave up,just for me.I love you, Mom
  16. 16. This poem is dedicated to all the mothers in the worldfrom all the daughters in the world whoRealize just how lucky we really are…(But most of all, this poem is dedicated to my mother,Vanice Mae Sprangers).Written by Christine Hartjes