o goddess of black deeds
I have felt the knife's
fury in my wrists, the urge
to throw my baby
down the stairs, the blood
surge making me crazy
or just a lack of sleep
a fever in the chest
never enough rest
stomp yell slap bang
the knife on the counter
instead of hitting him
yet, next moment
all is calm, I soothe his
head, caress him next to
my heart, tell him I am dead
serious. I will not yell
if you don't. bargain, deal
but not beg, only
request. o ungentle goddess,
this anger
is not for him.
help me give tears to my sadness
voice to my rage
Little Mother, 1997
jennifer boire
4 comments:
WOW.
Thank-you for speaking the unspeakable.
We spend so much time cloaking motherhood in sentiment.
The truth is raw and infinitely more beautiful.
I think women need to hear the good the bad and the ugly about mothering, to keep it real. Fortunately, there are the days when you feel divinely blessed. If we stick together, we are stronger.
luv
jenn
this is very powerful thank you !
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