Lioness

She is
dark and native,
and I am part of
her clay
and magical
soul-work.

Oh
Mother,
I won't forget
the wild hypnosis
of your old
gold
earrings:
precious hoops,
my gypsy-pirate!

They were my mobile,
bi-star universe,
a solid meditation
that held my eyes glued to.
I'd bounce on your hip,
while you lunged and cooed.
I communicated a
Spanglish baby language:
"Aco", and you with your
"ah-ah-ah-ahh".
We understand the languagelessness
of Love.

Oh
Mother,
you are still tired
but you fight life
with those chocolate eyes.
And now
slowly I am understanding
what it means
to truly feel
tired.

And gosh,
do I love you.
For all that you are.
Fragile and womanly,
but oh
strong,
beautiful,
fierce,
My
Lioness.