POUND CAKE MAKER
(for my mother)
By Akbar Imhotep
How can I simmer thoughts
About the source of my existence
Outlook & thirst for life
Into a few lyrical phrases &
Memorable metaphors?
How can I capture the essence
& cause of my being with words?
After writing about failed but
Productive marriages,
A heart mended many times &
Countless relevant unrelated
Events and encounters,
Where are the words for my mother?
Who was this woman
Who nourished humble seeds &
Gave birth to the trees
We’re still becoming?
Who is this Georgia peach
Who never knew her mother
But mothered seven & gave each
A reason to thrive.
Who was this woman who made
Sweet potato pies, pound cakes &
Collard greens on wood burning
Stoves in old, wind welcoming
Homes on country roads
To sweeten & stabilize
The lives of her flock?
She who grew up in the world
Without her mother but not
Without others who sheltered
& Protected her to some degree.
She who connected us to our people &
The land they cultivated for others.
Land that’s still fertile & holds the remains
Of many who came before & after her.
How I wish I could find poetic words
To say about, “Carrie Lee Davis Ridley”
When each phrase of her name holds
Stories needing to be told.
‘Carrie’, the name of several cousins &
Her mother’s sister that I knew during
My childhood & the mother of a son
I only knew as “Uncle Lewis’.
‘Lee’, the last name of the midwife
Who brought her into the world &
The great-grandmother of her
First set of grandchildren.
‘Davis’, our family name given
By he who called himself owner,
Now merged with Lees, McGhees,
West, Webbs, Ridleys & more.
‘Ridley’, the last name she wore
During our childhood & now in eternity.
Mr. Sugar’s last name, her husband &
Our father in the absence of those
Who planted seeds in her garden
For others to cultivate.
How do I capture the pound cake maker with
Only lyrical phases & memorable metaphors?
I can’t. I can only try & pray that she would
Be pleased with my effort.
(for my mother)
By Akbar Imhotep
How can I simmer thoughts
About the source of my existence
Outlook & thirst for life
Into a few lyrical phrases &
Memorable metaphors?
How can I capture the essence
& cause of my being with words?
After writing about failed but
Productive marriages,
A heart mended many times &
Countless relevant unrelated
Events and encounters,
Where are the words for my mother?
Who was this woman
Who nourished humble seeds &
Gave birth to the trees
We’re still becoming?
Who is this Georgia peach
Who never knew her mother
But mothered seven & gave each
A reason to thrive.
Who was this woman who made
Sweet potato pies, pound cakes &
Collard greens on wood burning
Stoves in old, wind welcoming
Homes on country roads
To sweeten & stabilize
The lives of her flock?
She who grew up in the world
Without her mother but not
Without others who sheltered
& Protected her to some degree.
She who connected us to our people &
The land they cultivated for others.
Land that’s still fertile & holds the remains
Of many who came before & after her.
How I wish I could find poetic words
To say about, “Carrie Lee Davis Ridley”
When each phrase of her name holds
Stories needing to be told.
‘Carrie’, the name of several cousins &
Her mother’s sister that I knew during
My childhood & the mother of a son
I only knew as “Uncle Lewis’.
‘Lee’, the last name of the midwife
Who brought her into the world &
The great-grandmother of her
First set of grandchildren.
‘Davis’, our family name given
By he who called himself owner,
Now merged with Lees, McGhees,
West, Webbs, Ridleys & more.
‘Ridley’, the last name she wore
During our childhood & now in eternity.
Mr. Sugar’s last name, her husband &
Our father in the absence of those
Who planted seeds in her garden
For others to cultivate.
How do I capture the pound cake maker with
Only lyrical phases & memorable metaphors?
I can’t. I can only try & pray that she would
Be pleased with my effort.
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