MOTHERHOOD

How powerful I felt
when you looked up to me
for life, for meaning, for encouragement!

I dreamed your growth,
straight and tall,
invincible
arrows in my quiver,
conquering all
while I cheered from afar
congratulating myself
for the miracle.

Now the work is over
and I weep, redundant,
a shadow ghosting through
the margins of your lives.

When it's all over,
I'll lie meekly on my back
looking up to you.

                         (Oct. 2012)

Window Shopping

There she is,
the doll of my dreams,
pink and cuddly,
the doll of my dreams.
Why are the best things
always behind glass?

My mother pulls me away
gently.
I take her hand,
knowing too well
her grown-up
worries and burdens --
food and fuel and school supplies.

Morning.
My birthday.
My mother
tears in her eyes
holding the doll,
no glass.

I can't move.
I stare
at my mother
her tears
the doll of my dreams
in her arms
No glass.