When They Were Whole

 

I would trade anything,

Every title, every tear,

Just to step back into a holiday season,

When my mother’s laughter

Wasn't weighed down by worry.

When her sisters' smiles,

Stretched wide and glowing with glee and cheer.

Back to the kitchen, heat rising from the stove,

The grease popping,

The Temptations playing low,

The air thick with love and collard greens and ham.

Back to a time when their bodies were temples,

And not battlegrounds.

When illness hadn't whispered,

Its name into our lineage.

I can still see them,

Hair curled to perfection, jewelry polished, and bold dreams.

Soft hands stirring pots of hope,

Voices rising in harmony,

Each woman with a distinct hymn.

If I could, I'd trade everything,

The ache of grown-woman knowing,

The silence after their songs,

For just one more day,

When my mother and her sisters,

Were whole, happy,

And free of pain.