Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Bad Poetry #1

Shortness of breath, as if I've hiked for miles or oversmoked in a bar last night.
Temper is short, too, as I snap at this one or that one.
The littlest one knocks at the door as I cry into open hands
or clenched fists.

Stumbling to overcompensate, they understandably shy away.
Blessedly they bounce back.

Not forever, is my fear.

Prayers unanswered.
Or is the answer just a deafening and wordless "NO!"?


7 comments:

Patois said...

I'll be fine. Just done. Don't worry.

musingwoman said...

Powerful and honest. Thank you for sharing.

Beth P. said...

Well, firstly
NOT bad poetry. Really good poem, axlly, as my friend's 4 year old says.
Secondly,
NOT particularly bad mothering. If you watch docus about mother bears or wolf clans, you'll see that the young need to learn that the elders have moods and that they won't die, but they need to give deference.
Just some vagabond thoughts.

Smiling, with you--

Tricia said...

Quite beautiful actually.

Lori said...

Nice poem. And, it brought back memories of being in the SAME situation. The kids tried to peek under my door to see what was happening in there, since I could not speak to answer their questions about why I was crying. It IS good for them to see that we are HUMAN and have weak moments! Or days, or weeks, or years...hugs to you.

D... said...

Well, you say "Don't worry" but I must admit that I am. I hope today finds things better for you.

As mothers, we all let our moods affect how we handle the kids. I love what Beth said. She's right. And the kids? Will always bounce back. There is too much love there for them not to.

I think Raw & Honest Poetry is a better title.

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

Oh, how I hate and despise those days.

Many, many hugs, hon!

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