By Ernie McCray

This Mother’s Day
I found myself reflecting
affectionately
on my mother
and a mother
who I was proud
to call my wife,
two women
who gave me all the love
I would ever need to sustain me
in this realm called life.
And after thinking about them
for a while
in my mind’s eye
I came to realize
that there’s another mother
I might want to recognize:
My daughter, Tawny,
who is just like my mother
and hers in scope and size,
of them like
a slice off the old wedge,
if such a happening
has ever revealed itself before my eyes.
I see those mothers of all times
flowing from her like water
from a fountain at spring time
during the melting snows –
every time I see her mother her son,
the way she holds him
so lovingly,
tenderly,
as if he were a feather
that could be swept with the wind,
and talks to him
so soothingly,
earnestly,
as if he were to comprehend,
and listens to him
so attentively,
actively,
as if he were a human
of worth;
more than that,
as if he’s the most precious
being on earth…

Just like her mother with her.
And my mother with me.
It’s such a joyful sight to see:
The flourishing of a beautiful mother
on one’s Family Tree.

• Bio
• Latest Posts

Ernie McCray

I was raised in a loving and alive home, in a black neighborhood filled with colorful characters in Tucson, Arizona. Such an environment gave me a hint that life has to be grabbed by the tail as tight as a pimple on a mosquito's butt. With no BS and a whole lot of love. So, from those days to now I get up every morning set on making the world a better place. On my good foot*, and I hope my writing reflects that. *an old black expression

Latest posts by Ernie McCray (see all)

• Should Democrats, like Superman, Seek ‘Truth, Justice and the American Way’? - December 10, 2018
• Saying Goodbye to a Friend Who Gave Me a Helping Hand - November 28, 2018
• An Awakening - November 21, 2018