Mother's Day (May 10. 2015)

*Written on May 10, 2015,when  I was 34 weeks pregnant with Dominic*

This is for the other mothers.

For the ones who are told it gets better
when tiny pummels under Christmas sweaters

Stop.

This is for grief.

The pull you under, bend your bones kind
The hold the ashes, press the rose kind
Beneath the grass she lay alone kind.

This for a trillion tears and midnight ghosts
when you can't escape the monster, because the monster is your pulse

In your ears in a sterile room.

after your insides became a tomb.

This is for bubbles burst.  For counting chickens too soon and monsooons on parades.

This is for losing count

of every time you leave home without her.  

This is for girls who should be three now. 
Should be seven, should be nine, should be next to me now.

For the "you're so strong's" and "I would die's"

When you're told how to do it

from those who've never had to try.

 
This is for the mothers grasping at walls, tracing skin, hoarding blame, chasing time.

This is for love. The kind that stuns you.
Stretches, widens, then outruns you.

The stupid, blind, have you learned nothing kind.
The maybe, almost, lamb to slaughter kind.  

This is for brains that remember, and hearts that won't listen.

For every day that will pass without your permission.

For those growing life again, so close that it hurts-

and running from somersaults under their shirts

This is for hope that won't die

even when you feel you might, even when you want it to,

even when a daughter does.

This is for the moms who love behind earthly bars. 

who search their babies among the stars.  

This is for belly laughs to come.

This is for hopefully, perhaps,

and maybe one day.

For the piece of my soul that got away.

This is for giving one back and still chosing to play.

Happy Mother's Day.