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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