Uncover the Sun

Gotta

 

Gotta hand it to you mothers

you can clean up poop

and pee and barf and still smile

and love your kid like

forever,

like a miraculous flower

never knowing how it will bloom

 

You don’t feel like you’re “babysitting,”

or having to “watch the kid,”

no, no trying on a role for you

it’s the real deal

until death and even after,

that small body full

of every hope you ever had for the future

 

Your mothering hands soothe the heart,

your gaze sees every bit of kid,

every fault and crack line

and loves right into the abyss

and beyond,

you mothers

gotta hand it to you

 

Posted in Caring, Feelings, Grief.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *