Motherhood: A Lesson in Change

You came into my life
on a dark rainy night
shifted my perspective
altered my sight

My world had existed
on a simple plane
revolving just around me
yeah, I was pretty vain.

Then you - my tiny package
in your green baby sling
arrived kicking and screaming.
Calmly I would sing

            "Jesus loves me this I know
             For the Bible tells me so"

over and over
my voice a thin line
breaking down walls
making you mine.

The world slowly opened
and swallowed me whole.
Forever altered
by one little soul.

Destined

A found pantoum using the controlling ideas from my students' final exams:

Everyone has a purpose
Somewhere inside us, we all know our destiny
Our actions and choices lead us to a fate we can’t escape
It’s what we are meant to do

Somewhere inside us, we all know our destiny
When our fate is known, nothing else matters
It’s what we are meant to do
The decisions we make in life

When our fate is known, nothing else matters
The universe is pushing our life, our decisions
The decisions we make in life
We all wish we could see the future, to know what lies ahead of us

The universe is pushing our life, our decisions
At some time and place we realize our destiny
We all wish we could see the future, to know what lies ahead of us
Our actions and choices lead us to a fate we can’t escape

To My Mother

When I was small
you used to let me dunk cookies
in your coffee
I didn’t want the soggy brown crumbs floating in my milk
I would make a face - tongue stuck out
and plead with my big brown eyes
You’d smile and push your hot drink my way

When I was small
I used to complain when the tags on my shirts
were too itchy
and you’d snip them off
leaving the size and washing instructions a mystery
But it was not something I thought about
I was just glad that I no longer had to scratch

Now I am a mom
and when my son complains that his tags are too itchy
I dutifully cut them off, shaking my head
and smoothing down his collar
But when he holds his cookie in the steam of
my hot delicious tea
clear brown sweetness
untouched in its perfect liquid state
I frown
There are some things
a mom must keep
Sacred.

Half Moon

It happens in the mind first
Visualize yourself
Strong and balanced
A straight line of stillness
And then
A breath
In
And
Out
Eyes trained on the wall ahead
Arms tight
Fingertips reaching
The body tips
Delicate
Graceful
The ground rising up to meet your grasp
A breath
In
And
Out
One hand on the floor
The other approaching the sun
Legs full of force
Possessing power
Previously unknown
You shift your gaze
And see yourself from above
A breath
In
And
Out
The pose no longer masters you
You master the pose
Mind then
Body
Then
Mind

Without a Choice

Betrayed by a body
Female
but not a woman
Or so I was told once
The ability to love
not enough
Who was it that denied me
this most basic gift?
When I was formed
in my Mother’s womb
was that when it happened?
Equipped with all the eggs
I would ever need
and never use
Forced out with
Needles
Drugs
Left to wither
Unattached

Here I remain
with monthly reminders of all that
I could not be
could not carry
SCARS
the only things that grow
Inside
plaster pasting my organs shut
And as I live out
my final years of blood
letting it slip out
like a cloudy river
Will I one day accept
this fate
this fundamental deformity
Accept
its consequences
good and bad
or will I continue to live
in jealousy
hatred toward a body
unable to
Create?

Frustration

Frustration
Fiery red
Blocking my path
like a giant boulder
Slamming the door
on my thumb
Filling the huge hole of doubt
that occupies my mind
Filling it with
hundreds of tiny pebbles
Plunking in
one by one
Frustration

Custer County, 1886

Wading through the grass
thick and high
on our way to pick the sweet summer fruit
fingers raw from packing our soft sod house.
Squinting into the summer sun,
I stare at the land, wide and spacious
full of future.
My sisters, tall and wise, speak of their own homestead;
a piece of land for each alone.
I listen with envy,
knowing my time is a long way off.
The rain begins to fall
like silence.
I kick the mud from my high brown boots,
push hair away from my face,
and look ahead at the canyons fulls of purple plums as big as fists.

It is hard to imagine this place
this beautiful place
trapped in a winter fury,
but I feel the stiff wind on my forehead
and I know the day will come
when blinding snow will work its way into our bones
like death
and we will father together in our tiny home.
The wind, white and relentless,
singing like a lost child
Eugene's violin urging us onto the mud packed floor
urging us to kick up the dusty hay
and forget the cold forever folding around us.
And in that tiny home
we will celebrate the openness
the freedom of the
West.