The Poetry of Motherhood
May 2023 Bonus Issue
+3
Mother’s Day, like motherhood itself, can be complicated for many of us. Joy and grief collide like a car crash we are watching in slow motion, powerless to stop. We’re reminded of what we’ve gained, but also what we’ve lost. Longing and gratitude tighten their grip on our hearts. This collection of poems considers these dichotomies and the spectrum of motherhood from the rain to the the rainbows. Wherever you find yourself today, I hope these words are relatable and comforting.
Sending you strength and peace,
Michelle
Hot Breakfast
She starts her day with a light breakfast of eggs and oatmeal and shadows. It’s a spicy love affair for a party of one, involving Monterey Jack and maple syrup without measure. Because this mother called in a flavor. With no company to keep but bites of savory and sweet, she enrolls in the clean-plate club — and is immediately elected chair for her finishing flair. Because even the crumbs succumb. Not to be fork-gotten, she takes them on the tip of her finger and finds the inside of her bottom lip. Because a season of everything most certainly means everything. Every poppy seed Every dried speck of garlic Every grain of salt Every thing And after she’s devoured the evidence, she stretches the belly of the morning to satisfy a beautiful, long moment, sipping black coffee, hot as can be, tasting the quiet air she doesn’t have to share.
Risky Business
No one would call her a risk taker but yesterday she ate the grapes straight out of the bag and on Tuesday she answered a call from an unknown number. Sometimes she forgets to lock the back door and that one time she got a pixie cut. Just this morning she gave her son the blue cup instead of the green. Then she kissed him and his brother and sent them out into the world in their own bodies, as if they weren’t once a part of hers. Every night she says, I love you, then closes her eyes not knowing what she’ll open them to and isn’t this (the loving and the not knowing, she means) the biggest risk of all?
Pair of 2am Perspectives
a sad, wild truth
Jillian Stacia
they say a wolf can smell her young from a mile away. a spider carries more than 100 babies on her back. the octopus chooses to die of starvation just to keep her eggs safe. at night, i stand guard over your crib like a great horned owl. my heart a coiled rattlesnake prepared to strike. i pace the hallways like a cheetah, stare at myself in the mirror with wide and wild eyes. howl with despair when i realize the threat has always been me. here is a lesson from the animal kingdom: every mother fails eventually. even a lioness will let down her guard. even a sparrow will refuse to sing. even i will break your heart.
Leaving
I can’t find my keys Put your shoes on I can’t do it! Where are my shoes? I CAN’T DO IT! Ask for what you need Help me pleeeeeese There’s my shoes! Come here, let’s put on your shoes NOWAY! GOWAY! Where’s my phone? Go get your lunchbox - THUNK We don’t throw things in the house Have I locked the back door? Have you got your lunchbox? I’m building lego We have to go! Where are my keys? Up in the pram! Georgie do it! Have you got your water bottle? Is that meeting today? Did you brush your teeth? Yeeesssssss Don’t wipe your face on your shirt! Is that form due back today? If you climb up George, you can have popcorn Where’s your bag? We’re gonna be late Say bye to Daddy Hold my hand, let’s pray Help us today Lord to love you with all our heart, mind, and strength Give me a kiss Have a happy day Love you Bye!
After Therapy, I Think About Mothers and Daughters
I am different. Those were the words she spoke through the screen. I am different because I am— What was the word? Self-aware. I am not perfect but I have some tenderness. I can get down on my knees, stoop to feel for her heart’s ripped seams, stitch them together again, however crudely. I can sit and hold her tangled limbs in my lap. I can sort through her insides like a nest of knotted necklaces, let her sadness settle down to the soles of my feet. I can cup her face, a perfect heart. I can say things like, Here I am. I am not perfect but I have some tenderness.
Like a Mother
Run like the wind But does the wind lace running shoes at 5:30am And tiptoe out of a sleeping house For the solitary quiet of shoes hitting pavement? Soft as velvet But has velvet ever lulled an infant To sleep on her shoulder Tiny body resting just so? Sing like a bird But do birds ever sing the same tune over and over And over To calm the fears of a small, sweaty head cradled in her lap? Happy as a clam But has a clam ever held all she ever wanted Her arms and table and heart filled Right to the brim? Do the wind and velvet and bird and clam Lace with love Every run and song and sway and smile Who could? A mother. A mother. A mother. A mother.
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Wow. Krista and Jillian, those poems really pack a punch. Thanks for sharing. I needed those. And Michelle, that line “sent them out into the world in their own bodies like they weren’t once part of hers,” really gets me.
This was so fun, friends!