tenesha the wordsmith – mother to daughter lyrics
this is one story
my mother told
of her mother
she only did what she wanted to do
her daughter, my mother says
she wasn’t some sweet old lady at the quilting bee
quilting was a solitary thing
done late nights
no scissors
just ripping fabric
in the morning i searched for my mother in piles of discarded fabrics
sought her out in the st-tching of incomplete patchwork
i’d found myself
a patch of blue
a discarded easter dress
a pair of old jeans
my mother sewing me into the fabric of what was meant to keep me warm
and secure
i spent my life searching for patches of blue
seems my life ripped and sewn together
again and again
i look for my patch of blue
the complete quilt covering me
tradition
legacy
survival
this is the story my momma tells
of her momma
as she rips apart old curtains
and throws them into a pile of discarded fabrics
i run my fingers along the ragged edges
studying the seams
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