Song for Yesterday

Yesterday was my mother's birthday and I don't have a lot to say about it.

Would have talked to my father but I know he'd tell me to pray about it.

I know he means well, and sometimes prayer helps, but all the same,

Praying when I know the answer is in me... there's something not okay about it.

I've been to therapy, been there to see what talking does, learnt it does a lot.

Kept my counsel sometimes, made my mistakes, learnt from the lessons I got.

I didn't have my mother there to see it, but I had her in her picture frame.

Lots of them, in fact: my father's a photographer, he takes time over every shot.

I couldn't write a poem about it yesterday, that's just the way it is.

I know my own mind, I appreciate the help, but even though you say it is

The function of poetry, like prayer, to make life seem like it's all a game,

I don't think you know, in giving that instruction, how hard to obey it is.

Poetry comes from me in the little things I do for her.

And by "her" I don't just mean Amma, though I certainly stay true for her.

Not just for what she did but for the negative example she set, her shame

And her pride are within me, I am me times two for her.

So, let me tell you about yesterday, or, better yet, today.

I don't think that I have very much left to say.

I put down these words in the order in which they came,

Then wove them into a song with no music and no way to press play.