Happy Birthday: Memories After And Between... Poem by Almedia Knight-Oliver

Mother…you have a baby boy…she laid
seven pounds of flesh beside a throbbing heart!
Tears rained down my face, dripped over
Light brown hair and matching eyes, and
Formed a salty pool in the crease of his neck.

My mind brimmed with unspoken words:
“Put him back in his secure home within and
out of reach of sermons of all the fox preachers
Proselytizing morals founded in Christian doctrine
Their lingoes and actions; I have yet to see”
Self-righteousness isn’t loud enough to drown
out the voices of the immoral from within.

Now you understand “why the cage bird sings” her sad
and angry, sweet and loving songs, that howl and resonate
Since my baby is real in this story, then, I too, and the
Phenomenon is truth too…I looked into your tiny, wrinkled
Face, seeing my tissues, bones, and blood, and began to
nurse the fruit of my womb…heart trembling…baby slept, and
all the while, dreading a room full of crawling varmints to brave.

Still looking through the prism of the past, now I’ll filter through
Big Mike’s childhood that holds some unforgettable moments
Klutziness you inherited from me… now you’re off the hook!
Look mommy “I was chasing my friend and ripped my pants”
Look mommy “I was running from a bee, fell, and bruised my knee”
Look mommy “the dog was hungry and the seat of my pants was meat”

Son, it seems as if it were yesterday that, I held you in illicit arms, and not
a whisper of hope in my ears. I held you trembling like a captured bird,
and doubting if future’s arms would lovingly and kindly hold us three!
But look at you now! Completely grown yet, you can’t over-take me!

Son, I understand that you didn’t choose me and from the depth
of my heart, I hope you appreciate the choice I made in choosing you!
Sorry can’t be vented by tears but this poem is weeping from Mississippi
to New York-I have the right to grieve for all the wrongs I’ve gotten right!

Since you’re complete, and grown and it’s your birthday, two scores and
seventeen to triumphantly grace…Heck who’s keeping score! This is your
special day! Let us turn it up! Light candles. Pop champagne bottles.
Raise your hand high. Toast the calm between birth and death.




October 2,2015