'It rips you to pieces' she said, the pain of birthing a part of yourself into the world
I wouldn't I said,
like dumbbells the weight and the size of other worries upon your shoulders jabs at your arms
and the chores, the open sores
the broken skin you'd have to bear upon yourself! it was all faint under her arms I could tell.
Ha! Yourself?
No time for yourself,
You donate your heart while its still inside of you
You give up your own skin, and your time, and your bones
and you can not revoke it, you cannot ignore it or deny yourself the joys
of tottering feet and sloppy kisses like landslides
I am tired, she pressed onto my hand
I am drained, she complained
I only smiled back and said that the title
Mother
is the name of all sacrifice, friend.
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