Poetry By Laurel Galford

Thomas and Dianne Jones CC 




My Mother is

My mother is an artist,
paints my bruised knees
and flowers bloom from 
the black and blue,

my mother takes my science project
and turns it into a Picasso,
takes my worry and my frown,
turns me into laughter again.

My mother is a magician,
makes a decadent meal from
an empty refrigerator, 
makes new what was old,
turns everything holy.

My mother knows the secret to life 
is a lot of garlic and even more joy,
that’s why her bread tastes like sunlight
and the house is full of color.

My mother was told during her art program 
her strokes and use of color were 
too bold,
too masculine, 

so my mother painted
more angels into demons,
turned divinity into darkness,

made bold everything
she wanted,
was the light of it all.

My mother came from very little,
from a crowded one bedroom,
from a mother who was not allowed autonomy,
from her mother whose tongue was not understood.

My mother took the lack and the little
and drew herself into a big city
where she discovered there
they liked bold,
and they liked strong.

In the city my mother became rich 
with life,
wealthy in love,
her hands a constant Pollock.

My mother gave us her body,
taught my sister and I how to bend
and never break,
how to give and give
and always have room to give more.

My mother taught us to turn our mistakes 
into our triumphs,
our tears into music,
taught us to turn our 
pain into art.

My mother helps me scatter my broken heart 
along the way back home 
so I know where to rest, 
tells me to dream so big it scares me
then dream some more.

My mother looks at her face,
her beautiful living face and sighs. 

I look at her face and think 
I am home.

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Laurel Galford (she/her) is a former Massachusetts resident, now enjoying the sunshine of the Bay Area. Her first love is poetry though she has been known to dabble in creative non-fiction and short story. Her work has been featured in Perfumed Pages, Tiny Wren Lit, The After Past Review, Gnashing Teeth and Anti-Heroin Chic. When not writing, Laurel can be found outside in her garden or trading books with her partner.