Mother, A Cradle to Hold Me
Maya Angelou
“It is true I was created in you. It is also true That you were created for me. I owned your voice. It was shaped and tuned to soothe me. Your arms were moulded Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me. The scent of your body was the air Perfumed for me to breathe. Mother, During those early, dearest days I did not dream that you had A large life which included me, For I had a life Which was only you. Time passed steadily and drew us apart. I was unwilling. I feared if I let you go You would leave me eternally. You smiled at my fears, saying I could not stay in your lap forever. That one day you would have to stand And where would I be? You smiled again. I did not. Without warning you left me, But you returned immediately. You left again and returned, I admit, quickly, But relief did not rest with me easily. You left again, but again returned. You left again, but again returned. Each time you re-entered my world You brought assurance. Slowly I gained confidence.
You thought you know me, But I did know you, You thought you were watching me, But I did hold you securely in my sight, Recording every moment, Memorizing your smiles, tracing your frowns. In your absence I rehearsed you, The way you had of singing On a breeze, While a sob lay At the root of your song.
The way you posed your head So that the light could caress your face When you put your fingers on my hand And your hand on my arm, I was blessed with a sense of health, Of strength and very good fortune.
You were always the heart of happiness to me, Bringing nougats of glee, Sweets of open laughter.
I loved you even during the years When you knew nothing And I knew everything, I loved you still. Condescendingly of course, From my high perch Of teenage wisdom. I spoke sharply of you, often Because you were slow to understand. I grew older and Was stunned to find How much knowledge you had gleaned. And so quickly.
Mother, I have learned enough now To know I have learned nearly nothing. On this day When mothers are being honoured, Let me thank you That my selfishness, ignorance, and mockery Did not bring you to Discard me like a broken doll Which had lost its favour. I thank you that You still find something in me To cherish, to admire and to love.
I thank you, Mother. I love you.”
