Mi Madre


Pat Mora

I say feed me.
She serves red prickly pear on a spiked cactus.

I say tease me.
She sprinkles raindrops in my face.

I say frighten me.
She shouts thunder, flashes lightning.

I say comfort me.
She invites me to lay on her firm body.

I say heal me.
She gives me manzanilla, orégano, dormilón.

I say caress me.
She strokes my skin with her warm breath.

I say make me beautiful.
She offers turquoise for my fingers, a pink blossom for my hair.

I say sing to me.
She chants lonely women's songs.

I say teach me.
She endures: glaring heat
                         numbing cold
                         frightening dryness.
She: the desert
She: strong mother.

From Chants by Pat Mora, Arte Publico Press
© 1985 Pat Mora
Back to the Introduction

Back to Day 1

Back to Day 2

Back to Day 3

Back to Day 7

Back to Day 18