Yeah,She Loves Me Like That

She is Mamma...when there is absolutely nothing wrong, 
No family drama to speak, just mother and daughter talking, laughing....getting along!
She is..."Mother, please, I just don't want to hear it, stop trying to tell me what to do! 
I hear my words ringing in my head, like a sad, cracked bell.
Like poison in my stomach, it makes me sick, 
that I can be so rude, and indignant.
I try to pretend that I'm right! 
Of course I am not!  
Still, amped up now...I carry on and keep dishing it out.
She is mommy then, the only one that can handle, this rotten food that I serve her, hot steamy rage on a silver plater. 
I’m just angry and frustrated, sometimes, I really don't, like myself.
Because this wisdom she's dropping, without a hint of sacracassm , 
feels just like bullets, ripping through my chest...and blows up this grown up's, little girl spasm. 
Later, when I’ve sunk so low and feel so bad, 
for how I spoke so impulsively, so disrespectful, 
to the woman who brought me in, when she could've 
taken me out.
I always call her back….  
“Mommy” I say, I'm so very sorry…
Then she always says, “Baby, what for?”
Yeah, she loves me like that.
She is Mommy, when I’m scared and depressed.
Even when were not speaking, her name is always on my breath.
In my heart like a soft and crisp, pressed flower…
Reminding me…
She is the reason, I am who I am.
Capable and kind, although fierce when need be. 
She’s the one who taught me how to walk, 
so now, these many years later…I can stand, on my own two feet.
Yeah, I can take care of me.
She infused me with fire and sugar and knowing the difference between, 
“What's right is right!” Don’t you roll those eyes at me!
Oh but…love sweet love, clean house, clean clothes, clean cozy bed, home cooked meals…warm soft kisses on my forehead.  
Enough to last, through out these years, pressed down, between my hearts pages, my colors still true, they have never faded.
Never once has she let me fall and give in to the fear, of loosing my true self.
Mamma.
Mother! 
Mommy…only second to the name, that comes first…
God, who gave me spiritual life, an eternal soul, and divine purpose.
Mommy, the one who brought me forth, to this wonderful crazy earth,
the last name I think of…and this prayer she used to sing me. 
I softly whisper, stare up at the ceiling, confronting the deep.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.