Muy Bonita Mamacita

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Muy Bonita Mamacita

“I did not have a mother; I had a Mama.”

--Al Green.

Fifty years ago, as some of you know, my mother 

died. She was young--I was younger. “39”, I

thought in 1966, “A good life”--as I was drafted right

out of college, heading off to boot camp while Viet

Nam raged south-southeast, & I had to wonder if

I would survive meeting Charlie, would I live to see

39 myself? There was nothing to do but lock and

load, roll the bones, close my eyes, swallow my fear

& leap blindly into the quagmire. I did make it to my

39th orbit around the planet, but the whole year was

a bumpy ride.

My Mama was an earth mother, and it seems that

sister Nature loved her so much, she was called up

to join the fraternity early on. She was then in the

earth, of the earth, beyond the earth--becoming

dust, both in the air & among the stars, a fading

photograph, a specter without a face, without a

voice, evaporating like magnificent cosmic mist

mid-morning on the magenta moors.

As I age, I must

say--my mother’s face becomes

clearer every day.  

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub