Mother

By Charles K. Carter

The circles under her eyes are dark, hair is shiny, shoulders slouched.
The soles of her shoes are as worn as her weathered face,
taking my tiny fingers in hand, she gently leads me across the desert.

 

Tired from walking, she has a spirit that flies higher than the vultures.
She finds a way to smile through the burning, blinding sun,
to smile through scalding sands and dirty water that remains in the canteen.

 

The gods created her with the strength of the canyons, holding up the sky.
The gods created her with a capacity to love greater than all water the oceans can hold,
greater than all the rain the clouds can cry.

 

This is mother. This is Mother.

 

Charles K. Carter is a queer poet and educator from Iowa who enjoys live music, yoga, hiking, and film. He has an MA in Creative Writing with a concentration on poetry from Southern New Hampshire University. He is currently working on an MFA from Lindenwood University.