Hail Mamie Full of Grace (after Joseph Ross)
By Truth Thomas
Somewhere, always, the light switch of the moon is on
as babies feast from mothers’ milky pillows.
Somewhere, always, in cradles of the wee hours, swaddling
clothes are lullabies for newborn souls,
cocooning. Once, in a South Side manger, a mother
gave birth to a king. Hail Mamie full of Grace
the first time she counted Emmett's toes. Hail Mamie
full of Grace, the first time she tallied
his fingers, divined the weight of his smile. Hail Mamie
full of Grace in 1941, the very first time
that she dressed him, anointed him with sugar words,
cushioned his dreams when his diapers
were dry. Hail this Mamie full of Grace, who never
heard a seed barn scream, or saw
the barbed wire weep. The Lord is always with
thee, just like Bobo’s ring.