A little about me, and most other moms,
Beyond our innocent maiden years,
Caught in the cavernous, lonely space of motherhood,
Delirious with lack of sleep,
Enormous are the responsibilities.
Far from family, far from home
Going to dark mental places
Help is nowhere to be found
Injured by false promises of care
Jostling pain amid the depths of deep love
Kindness from strangers gets us by
Longing for mothers to mother us as we mother
Matriarchy as a system, forgotten, but needed
No rest for the weary
Only super women allowed
Pushed beyond what is healthy or wise
Quietly our children suffer
Requiring a mom who is whole
Supplemented and fortified by a community
That doesn’t exist
Xtinction of our souls
Years pass and we wither
Zeniths, unrecognized.
About the Creator
Jackie Adams
chronic, acerbic truth teller with memories for days. my hope for writing is to illuminate the shameful, murky parts so they feel loved, come to dance, and make merry.
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall7 days ago in Fiction
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