Warrior Paint
By Niall Twohig
Ma, this photo of you
from the frontlines
brings back boyhood memories:
I ran in and out of the kitchen,
orbited you,
as you sat still,
applying your makeup and doing your hair,
readying your face for your third night shift.
In your stillness,
only the mascara brush moved,
with an artist’s stroke.
only the Aquanet bottle moved,
as if held by a stylist’s hand.
And I orbited impatiently,
knowing your work before work
still had 30 minutes to go.
Thirty years on, you nursed
at the epicenter,
where you sat still for this photo.
Behind the PPE, your eyes show:
you stuck to routine,
did your work before work.
I see that makeup, now,
as warrior paint.
You were always readying for battle.
And those who looked through painted frames
saw: Tenderness, yes, but also—
One who would go to war against
what was warring in them.
One who would do all she could
to pull them through or
give them peace.
Ma, may I always orbit you
with my work
and my work before work.