Her speed is slow and deliberate
Repetition throughout each conversation
Volume is higher than it used to be
And her speech is slow and deliberate too
My warrior mother
First in battle, forged by fire
Melts at the touch of my grandmother’s leathered hand
Pressing her palm to her face, where tears would be
If she was the type of woman with more feathers
The way this woman softens my mother—
calloused from years of fighting
and hardened and dried out from tears cried about me and my sister—
Breaks my headstrong spirit
And brings me to my knees in the most powerful and humbling of ways.
This is mother/daughter love as God intended it to be illustrated.