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Comin' For to Carry Her Home
Mama started goin’ gray some years ago.
Her body’s breakin’, or so she tells me
All damn night and all damn day as she cries.
I’ve got to agree; she never used to
Cry her eyes and ears off all the damn time.
The way she wails, you’d think someone’s dyin’.
She sings chariot’s comin’, uh comin’.
Doc says I’m in denial or somethin’,
But Mama’s still walkin’ and talkin’ and
Singin’; that sure don’t look like no damn end.
Sure, she’s losin’ her gray and lookin’ pale,
But my mama don’t quit or fight to lose.
Though her voice is thin. Her everythin’s thin.
She ain’t worked in weeks. She ain’t moved in weeks.
But Mama ain’t one for dyin’. Not yet.
She sings chariot’s comin’, uh comin’.
She took all the damn meds, every last one.
She went to all the damn doctors and tests.
And now Mama’s swingin’ low with angels
Above me. She ain’t here with me no more.
Sometimes I swear I see her in the sky.
I can still hear her final, mournin’ song.
She sings chariot’s comin’, uh comin’.
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This poem is a Bop. Bop is a style of poetry that tells the story of problem and it's solution in three stanzas with the use of a refrain. This one is partially inspired by the song "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" as seen in the title, refrain, and lines throughout.