In honor of Mother’s Day I wanted post a poem that I wrote about my Grandmother. She has always told us that if you love someone tell them now. I secretly believe that she’s a poet by how eloquently she says it. She tells us “Flowers are not for the dead, they’ll never get the chance to smell them. Give me my flowers now!” Affirmation and appreciation of the people in our lives are important. This is a piece that I wrote so that my grandmother will always have her flowers and will never have to wonder if I love her.
Here is the script of the piece:
You always told me to give you your flowers now
And If you ask my Dad I have always been a literal thinker
So I thought about making a deal with a florist that every time I was grateful for your existence he would send you a rose.
Perfectly cured around the petals, thorns clipped, stem dipped in purified glacier water, room temp, slightly tilted toward the sun, hand crafted by the son of God himself but even a billion blooming flowers wouldn’t be enough to say thank.
So I thought about planting a garden. I thought about buying a plot of land in the best climate, surrounded by a greenhouse made of the finest recycled materials with artificial rain, powered by a windmill in a hurricane, with flowers that touched the ceiling but it wouldn’t match the feeling of it feels like to be in your presence.
I wanted to build you a conservatory with stained glassed windows so that it could feel like a sanctuary of thank you’s.
It took me a while to understand that you didn’t really want flowers
You wanted me to give you presents in the present. Love in the present tense.
Present with words of affirmation you just wanted to hear my voice on Sundays.
You sound like the sermon I have always wanted to hear
you put me at rest like God did on the Sabbath and I’m sorry that I don’t call you every weekend like I should but I’m spending my hours trying to make you proud.
I love you I appreciate you I thank you,
And I know these couple of pages won’t make the statement but 24 years worth of gratitude wouldn’t fit in my notebook.
So here are your flowers:
You are beautiful. You are clothed in elegance, stunning and intelligent, heaven sent, dressed in melanin, making majestic look easy, easily reminding the world that black don’t crack, or chip, or fracture, fact of the matter is you are a Queen. And I am grateful to be a part of your lineage.
You raised a man
Who raised a man
Who will raise a man that knows how to treat a woman with respect. Never neglecting that she is powerful beyond reason, and reasons unknown she will wake up every day unconditionally choosing to love him.
And he better hope that she has a smile like you.
See your smile is contagious.
You go that smile that could make Kanye smile, That smile that if only for a while all is right in the world A smile that has outlasted the test of time Your smile reminds me of when we spent time in timeless moments And if only for a moment there were times when you made time stand still I swear you know how to do magic.
That’s the only way that you could make food taste this good. You make stuffing that would make a vegan apologize to a turkey, turning nothing into something and something into a winner, You could rub two top ramen packets together and make thanksgiving dinner. My Grandma is the truth, I don’t really need to brag but Beyoncé came for dinner and left the hot sauce in her bag.
I ain’t sorry. Not even a little.
See this is a woman who is draped in humility, covered by the scriptures, in love with the father, best friends with the holy spirit, and you would think she was solar powered seeing her relationship with the son
She taught us that we were made in the image of God.
She blesses those that curse her, sings psalms like they were ingrained in her tongue, speaks life like death is myth, My grandmother is the stencil of everything that is right with humanity.
And don’t let her hear some music. Because ooohhh weee there is still some rythym left her hips.
She has raised more children than she’s given birth to, she might call you all of your siblings names before she says yours but when she speaks you listen
She has the voice of a dictator and the soul of a saint, teaching discipline like doctrine, love in her lesson plans, obedience with a strong left hand so when she says,”Alright now” that conversation is over.
She is a gift. Like Christmas in the summer months but it’s been six months since I’ve called her. Only hearing her voice on holidays Granny I’m sorry. I’ll do better. But for now please take these flowers.
I have been growing them for 24 years In the garden of my soul and pray that every time I say that I love you those words feel like roses. That my hugs feel like bouquets. The nose forever smells the scent gratitude.
For no other reason but the fact that you deserve it.
I love you, I thank you, I appreciate you
I will give you your flowers now.