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I love my mom 
with unabashed cliche,
                    when we hug, when we 
                    telephone, cross this kanuk-country

she used to play guitar,
plaints and paradisios mostly,
laying licks in a mushy maudlin key,
while thinking of my wee brother 
                                      
                              billy and me,
f a t h e r less sons,
                a long way off,
left behind to be,
                  educated in the street,
                      bent by the back alley,
by bees and blossoms, too early, too early,
by black-billed Magpies cawing in the trees,
by movies, music and whom-ever,
would take us in for money;
by surly-men with rolled-up sleeves,
by women slapping our face,
'til we learnt to say, 'Mam, may I, please',
by tape-recorders and radios,
but especially 
by TV's...

I used to see her everywhere,
I saw her in my girlfriends,
I saw her in the Nuns,
I saw her in a statue of holy-mary,
mother of God, sweet-jesus,
I saw her in everyone!

I thought she was an Angel
dressed in white on channel 3,
with Ed Sullivan introducing her,
"ladies and gentleman,
back from Moose-Jaw Saskatchewan,
Ron, Laurie and Jeff playing
a really gooot sheeew,
for your special entertainment,"
well you know how that all went.

I saw her in my wives
who fought to gain control,
who finally gave-up fighting
with that selfish bit:ch,
that stole the show ya' know.
Maybe they were right,
she sold us kids for fame,
ran a band of salty men,
who tortured her for fun,
while traveling kanuk-country,
on the road called 'number-one'.

now
diabetes is eating-down to her Indian soul,
she can't get up, can't even roll,
nothin' can make her go,
doesn't want to know,
feels forgotten,
feels the song is ending,
feels that it's done,
feels it didn't go quite right,
                                  the dimming of the light, 
                                              to hospital white...
still, I'll miss her when she's gone...

I'm ready with years of practice, 
I'll have to try it out and see.
I'll sit selfishly by her bed-side and hold her close to me,
just to feel the warmth 
            from the radiance
            in her tear-softened face, 
just to hear a
        Cree crying song
        that she'd sing so emotionally ...

just in case she's full of grace, 
                like the mother she wanted to be
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