Stories from the Crowd: Mary’s Words

by Mary Morrison

Mama, again

Likely she had her reasons,
The poverty of a deep depression,
The terror of a World War.
But she was a hard woman to take,
With no room on her lap,
And only a cigarette and 
Threats from her fundamentalist 
God on her lips.
Never name a granddaughter of mine
After her.
Let the memory of her mothering
Die with me. ”

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My Own Name

I want a name of my own.
I don’t want to be Mrs. Anybody, 
Or even Mary, John’s dottir.
When I was young, I couldn’t wait
To have someone else’s name
But it never fit me.
Now I want my own name,
A name that in the end says,
“She didn’t need to belong to anyone.
She was enough — just by herself.”

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Excerpt From
Stories from the Crowd
Scott Ballew
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