It's a long way to go for one spoon of soup

So mama's not eating so good.
On the edge of this world and the next.
Nothing is quite right with her or any of us for that matter

When we were little, if we were sick and couldn't eat
She'd make us soup with baby pastina in the shape of little stars
floating around in egg drop clouds
and for some reason or the other, we always felt better.

And all I can think of is I want to make that soup for her,
to see if she can eat just one spoonful.
But the consequences of choices made so long ago
to live in Sunny Cali so far away from my mama
my heart-home, my roots stretch miles away but there isn't a spoon long enough
to span the physical distance
It's a long way for me to go to give her just one spoon of soup
Just one spoon of soup