Legacy: From Mother To Mother Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

My warmest memories are of Mama’s hands
Gently running, as if on tiptoe, through my hair
Like soothing balm on a deep cut on the knee
Or sweet melody that howls down the clatter
Of sleep thieves with three eyes and giant fangs
Her calmative touch held off fears and bad dreams
With loving fingers, she would weave a warm cocoon
Impenetrable by rackets and dreadful behemoths
I would ride on cotton-soft clouds above the sky
And shake hands with angels who defied nightmares

I lie in bed with my precocious four year old girl
The cold night aged and walked past her bedtime
I run my fingers through fine strands of her hair
She yawns and begins a peaceful journey to sleep
The bad characters that visit at night are put away
In the distant future, I conjure an intense vision
Of a young mother combing a sleeping baby’s hair
With loving fingers while thinking of her old mother