Mon enfant

Every hour I am away from you
I want to draw you closer
But I still can't understand
the reality of you
You are still but an extension
of my being
Must I love myself before I can love you?

On Motherhood

But the strength of God is sewn in my seams;
binding this patchwork being.
Stitching the skin to heal
in silvered scars.
Like a punctured wineskin
I pour forth into you
my child.
You rent and tear my heart.
He holds us together

His seams weave my being anew.

Homeschool moms with their WIC & their libraries, their SUVs guzzling govt-subsidized gas, babies all covered by Medicaid, complaining about the slackers living off the system - it kills me.

a highly sensitive child

In first grade, the boy I gravitated toward cut the back of his hand. He came to school with a white bandage wrapped around it. I remember feeling so sad that my chest hurt. He was perched in the homemade treehouse in the playground of the school and I stood at the base of it. Wanting so bad to comfort him and show him how sorry I was that he was hurt, I picked up the broken handle of a plastic spoon, quickly studied it to find the sharpest spot on it, and repeatedly scraped it across the back of my hand. The pink, ashen scratch rose slightly off the back of my little 6-year-old hand. I showed him how I'd hurt myself to make him feel less pain & he just turned away. He didn't understand. No one really did.

Do you?

soul.

soul.
sole.
bottom-down.
underneath.
that which presses into the ground.
that which is closest to the earth.
center.
stillness.
axis.
foundation.
support.
strength.
rest.

I prayed so hard.

I'm sorry.

I don't feel like sharing. I want to... kind of.

But my thoughts have become more geometric... out of necessity. I guess when a thorn is removed, you can't paint with blood anymore.

I can't seem to see anymore. I can't see how I used to.

But the other day, I was walking up the concrete steps to our door and I smelled the concrete and the dust and the lingering cigarette smoke and I felt how the smell reached deep inside and pulled out a vague memory. So vague, all I could remember was emotion; a certain way my soul was settled on days that smell was layered in my mind. It was peaceful, young and full of exploration and curiosity.

I rejoice for my son and the days he will know that feeling.