It is true
   I was created in you.
   It is also true
   That you were created for me.
   I owned your voice.
   It was shaped and tuned to soothe me.
   Your arms were molded
   Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
   The scent of your body was the air
   Perfumed for me to breathe.
   Mother,
   During those early, dearest days
   I did not dream that you had
   A large life which included me,
   For I had a life
   Which was only you.
   Time passed steadily and drew us apart.
   I was unwilling.
   I feared if I let you go
   You would leave me eternally.
   You smiled at my fears, saying
   I could not stay in your lap forever
   That one day you would have to stand
   And where would I be?
   You smiled again.
   I did not.
   Without warning you left me,
   But you returned immediately.
   You left again and returned,
   I admit, quickly,
   But relief did not rest with me easily
   You left again, but again returned.
   You left again, but again returned.
   Each time you reentered my world
   You brought assurance.
   Slowly I gained confidence.
   You thought you knew me,
   But I did know you,
   You thought you were watching me,
   But I did hold you securely in my sight,
   Recording every moment,
   Memorizing your smiles, tracing your frowns.
   In your absence
   I rehearsed you,
   The way you had of singing
   On a breeze,
   While a sob lay
   At the root of your song.
   The way you posed your head
   So that the light could caress your face
   When you put your fingers on my hand
   And your hand on my arm,
   I was struck with a sense of health,
   Of strength and very good fortune.
   You were always
   The heart of happiness to me,
   Bringing nougats of glee,
   Sweets of open laughter.
   During the years when you knew nothing
   And I knew everything, I loved you still.
   Condescendingly of course,
   From my high perch
   Of teenage wisdom.
   I grew older and
   Was stunned to find
   How much knowledge you had gleaned,
   And so quickly.
   Mother I have learned enough now
   To know I have learned nearly nothing;.
   On this day
   When mothers are being honored,
   Let me thank you
   That my selfishness, ignorance, and mockery
   Did not bring you to
   Discard me like a broken doll
   Which had lost its favor.
   I thank you that
   You still find something in me
   To cherish, to admire, and to love.
   I thank you, Mother.
   I love you.
   ABOUT THE AUTHOR
   Poet, writer, performer, teacher, and director
   MAYA ANGELOU was raised in Stamps, Arkansas,
   and then moved to San Francisco. In addition to her
   bestselling autobiographies, beginning with I Know
   Why the Caged Bird Sings, she has also written a
   cookbook, Hallelujah! The Welcome Table; five poetry
   collections, including / Shall Not Be Moved and
   Shaker, Why Doni You Sing?; and the celebrated poem
   “On the Pulse of Morning,” which she read at the
   inauguration of President William Jefferson Clinton,
   and “A Brave and Startling Truth,” written at the request
   of the United Nations and read at its fiftieth anniversary.
   Her poem “Amazing Peace” was read at the
   lighting of the National Christmas Tree
   in December 2005.
   Copyright © 2006 by Maya Angelou
   All rights reserved.
   Published in the United States by Random House,
   an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group,
   a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
   RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered
   trademarks of Random House, Inc.
   eISBN: 978-0-307-49691-1
   www.atrandom.com
   246897531
   v3.0
   
    
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