Mama by R. Skye Lambert

Mama is crying again.

I hate it when she cries

Try so hard to tuck myself

into a place where I don’t hear it 

but I can’t find that place.

I still hear it. 

She says all her children leave her.

I tell her I won’t leave and she says:

You will when you age, ‘cita.

It is the way of life. 

You will feed the earth

like each of your brothers and sisters.

I am not the oldest, it is true

or even the next or the next after that

but I can’t fathom a time when I would

ever want to leave Mama.

She is warm and safe 

and she gave me my color.

This bright green that blinds.

I cling to her with my might

feel the strength of her arms and her time.

But as I tuck my tips

to make myself as small as possible

to make myself as far away from her sobs

as I can, I see my green is not so green anymore.

What is happening to me?

A tinge of gold has snuck into my fingertips.

What is happening to me?

Mama.  

It is spreading.

Crawling up my arms

Leaking into my veins.

Mama!

Is this the age that she has spoken of?

The one where I leave her?

Mama.  Mama!  Why aren’t you answering me?

My body is moving and I can’t control it.

I am being pushed, pulled

away from Mama.

I see the sky, oceanic and surreal.

Why isn’t the sky crying

when my world is ending?

I force my eyes open

fighting against the swells

blinding me.

And then I hear her.  

Feed the earth.

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R. Skye Lambert holds a Bachelors degree in Psychology with a minor in English. She is a social worker at a hospital in New England, serving clientele with pervasive mental health diagnoses. Skye is also a musician and songwriter.