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’.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741