Porsha Olayiwola – “My Mother”


So, my mother is a drinking gourd. She is a runaway slave along a shore. My mother is a still river. Her folks from Mississippi but she bred black South Side
of Chicago in the ’70s. My mother is great migration. She got a gambler for a father
and a rifle for a mother. My mother is Associates degree
in early childhood education, is three credits short from a BA,
is food stuck in vending machine. My momma steal and got what she paid for, is all curse out the clerk
at the cashier counter, is all “I guess y’all are gonna have
to work somethin’ out ’cause I’m not about to pay for that.” My mother is the difference
between ghetto and hood, is a [inaudible] not a thrift store. My mother is a Christian, is church-going, is leave church early,
don’t sing in the choir no more because things seem shady
behind the pulpit. My mother is two jobs
and an empty piggy bank, is section eight for retirement plan, is no savings account, no trust fund, no money until the 15th of the month. My mother is machete for speech, is too smart to be killed or followed. My mother is a blade in a back pocket, is a loud joke in a juke bar, ha ha. My mother is an oxymoron, is homophobic with a strap-on for a daughter. My mother is the strong black woman behind every disappearing vanishing
missing murdered dead black man. My mother is an open casket, is meant to hold bodies, is a vacant lot next to a boarded-up home. My mother is home, is sanctuary, is God, is how black don’t crack. My mother’s spine don’t bend. My mother is steel. My mother is a steel bullet, a loaded shotgun, waiting. (cheers and applause)

13 thoughts on “Porsha Olayiwola – “My Mother”

  1. there lies so much power behind every word she speaks ! so beautiful ✨☁️💓

  2. She is the reason I fell in love with slam poetry. She is still my favorite in the game. Thank God she's back 🙌🏾

  3. I have a crush on her because of her poetry. I just love her poems 😍🤩😍

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