#81 The Raincoat (Ada Limón)

Quizá tendría que dejar este poema para el día de la madre, pero a las madres hay que celebrarlas siempre, constantemente, con reverencia, por tantos gestos que pasan desapercibidos, que damos por sentado, que nos han salvado la vida y el alma y que nos siguen sosteniendo, porque las seguimos disfrutando en vida (como es mi caso, Deo gratias) o porque en la otra vida no se cansan de hablarle a Dios de nosotros.

THE RAINCOAT

When the doctor suggested surgery

and a brace for all my youngest years,

my parents scrambled to take me

to massage therapy, deep tissue work,

osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine

unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,

and move more in a body unclouded

by pain. My mom would tell me to sing

songs to her the whole forty-five minute

drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-

five minutes back from physical therapy.

She’d say, even my voice sounded unfettered

by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,

because I thought she liked it. I never

asked her what she gave up to drive me,

or how her day was before this chore. Today,

at her age, I was driving myself home from yet

another spine appointment, singing along

to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,

and I saw a mom take her raincoat off

and give it to her young daughter when

a storm took over the afternoon. My god,

I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her

raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel

that I never got wet.