Ode to Imperfect Mothers

I'm sharing my first poem and it feels scary!

There’s a new baby in the family! A new journey of motherhood begins.

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Boy, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. My grandson arrived nine days after his due date, and we are thrilled to have him earth-side. Originally I had something else in mind for this post, but because of a completely out-of-control schedule, I had to pivot today. I started this poem back in May after I finished my poetry class with Corie Feiner . Even though I don’t feel worthy of being called a poet, I’ll be brave today and share my attempt. Thanks for reading :)

Ode to Imperfect Mothers

You always loved babies the most

And they loved you right back

Easily,

Unconditionally.

They didn’t know it wouldn’t last.

You were a sight to behold

Your whisper melted into

a hum,

the softest lullaby.

I did not recognize that stranger.

I was old enough to grasp

You were out of your element

When

For just a little while

You gave me a sister

Borrowed from someplace worse.

I was seven,

She was six.

What she needed was a soft place to land

Away from the beatings,

The tearing of hair from its roots,

The scald of boiling water,

And the push down the stairs.

What kind of mother does this to a child?

You sent her back, though

You had to.

You did your best,

which was better than terrible.

I hid myself during your experiment of caring.

I liked my island

where you were too busy to find me.

I was safe

For a little while.

But you plucked me up again

A closed bud in a secret garden

Striking me with your stare and demands

That you were a good mother.

With cracked knuckles, trailing fumes of lye

Buying me everything I needed

Especially

The education you never had.

And I should be

Have to be

Must be

Grateful.

That was your undoing

Leaving me fallow to seek wisdom

And warmth

somewhere else.

The prisoner found the sage’s key

And the world opened up to the moon

To be

Something less cruel.

I felt my way by slivers of light

Seeking but not seeing

The moonbeams too dim,

Illuminating only the fragments.

In the end

It didn’t matter.

Not at all.

Because

He was destined to be

The enemy of my enemy

Willing to join me in

Birthing a family of my own

Igniting a joy and

Revealing the rays of the sun.

Celestial beings flowed out of me

Becoming love in flesh form.

Unconditionally.

I was grateful for all three

Guiding me from lunar to solar

Igniting an inferno

That even my broken eyes could see

And that has never stopped burning.

Even with too many mistakes

I’m still learning

How to love them perfectly.