MY MOTHER IS…

It is my beautiful mother’s 76th birthday today. With aging parents, birthdays feel bittersweet—days to celebrate and reminders of mortality. They begin to use phrases like, “I pray I’m still here to see…” and “I may not be here to…” The lump in my throat grows even as I type these words.

Today, the writing prompt I gave myself is:

“My mother is…”

Here is the poem I wrote:

MY MOTHER IS

By Farah Lawal Harris, 2026

My mother is jelly on buttered toast.

a sweet addition when life is crisping.

In four alarm fires, she is the water.

I am her daughter,

proud to carry the legacy

of kindness and elegance.

In storms, she is brilliant,

fire no rainfall can suppress.

Tried by illness, she shows resilience,

believes God will come through

on prayers overdue.

Comfortable and confident in her smooth,

sand-colored skin,

stunning and smiling

from faith held within.

She laughs easy, gives freely.

My mama sees me,

holds dreams that exceed my fears.

When I accomplish them,

I pray she is still here.

My guardian angel on earth.

I celebrate her birth,

76 years ago, she appeared.

Every conversation with her, I hold dear.

No love can compare

to my mama’s.