Mother In Waiting

It’s often said I am made for this,

Though sometimes I’m unsure

Because a mother wasn’t waiting in

The girl I was before.

She didn’t lie in restless slumbers

Memories made of night

And when the sky’s outfit would change

She’d struggle to see the light.

She’d never been so still before

While her heart continued to travel

She’d never felt so put together

While the stitching of her unraveled.

She’d never known the waves of pain

That were woven into her bones

How to move without their weight

Or how to dance alone.

She’d never been this shape before

Her body sore and broken

Where life did grow, her heart a home

It’s door forever open.

She’d never known a relationship

Could balance on mountain ridges

An ocean in between them

As they built their tiny bridges.

She’d never known how love could change

A person to a place

How home is found in the way we’re held

In their smell, or in their face.

She’d never felt this kind of weight

Or how time could hold it’s breath

How silence could be deafening

How to give when there’s nothing left.

She’d never had to pretend to know

Question countlessly if she was wrong

And learn one day she wasn’t pretending

And she’d known all along.

Her feelings never leaked like rivers

Her time never so poor

Yet richer in the ways

That didn’t matter as much before.

She didn’t know that nature could

Be placed upon her chest

How watching them grow was a type of calm

That meant she would never rest.

So though they say I was made for this

I’m not sure I agree.

It wasn’t I that made the mother

But motherhood, that made me.

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