Beneath the Glass

This poem is for my mom—an intelligent, fun, beautiful woman who could have done anything she wanted. But she chose to be Mom to my five siblings and me, not just in her free time, but 24/7. The gift of growing up with her is one that I will treasure forever. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you. ❤

We have a glass ceiling at our house—

Crystal beauty

Above our heads.

It belongs to Mom,

And it’s been there as long

As I can remember,

Spotless and shiny.

We ate beneath it

When she dished out love

With beans and cornbread.

We sat cross-legged beneath it

When she read to us

In the warm glow of morning.

We laughed and played beneath it

When she took a break

From her endless work to make us smile.

We slept beneath it,

Feeling safe after a nightmare

Because she was there.

Mom could have shattered

That beautiful glass ceiling.

She could have pierced

The surface with a sound like chimes.

She could have made the shards fall,

Shimmering in the sunshine,

Filling our home with diamonds.

The sight would have awed us all.

But she never wanted to.

I think she knew

That we would cut

Our feet on broken glass

And shiver when the rain came in.

And so the glass remains,

And in its light

You can see Mom singing

With a broom in hand,

Happier than she would have ever been

Above the glass.

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