_mothers.
There is something breathtaking
In the way a mother holds her child.
Cradles him like a shotgun to her breast.
Clutches her like change and possibility.
Counts their blessings like seconds to infinity.
Holds their hand like it was the only dream
She’s ever had and she’s too proud to let go.
Teaches them to embrace life
And weave their lives in thread with others
Before they try carving their mistakes
Into stone monuments.
Shows them the jazz in their voices.
The hip hop in their demeanour.
The soul in their walk.
Teaches them to listen closely enough
So they can hear the ocean waves
Cracking inside their chests
Before convincing themselves
That they can stand them break
Against the rocks in their throats.
Because their heart used to be full
But now they’ve moved out
The trucks have already left
And that was once upon a time.
Protects her children like eggshells
So they’ll never have to cut their feet
From walking on broken pieces of themselves
Or spill their yolk without her cleaning it up
And telling them everything is going to be okay.
And no woman will ever love them
As much as her.
While some will never realize
That the womb they were birthed in
Is more divine than anywhere
That they will ever call home again.
Never ask her if it hurt
To give them life and tear the universe apart
To make sure nothing will ever harm her baby.
Just to stay up a thousand sleepless nights
To soothe your siren cry enough to sleep.
Will never fade away into nothingness in her arms
Looking for a way to embrace God
And finding somewhere gorgeous instead.
(Source: wordsinajar)
