Long horizontal lines
where you made room for
yourself
Breasts that filled
And emptied
Like the tide
Now rest soft and weary
But proud
Having nourished you
I want to dislike these folds
Frown at the empty
kangaroo pouch
in which my joey’s heart
fluttered for the first time
But I can’t hate this body
Because it was your home
I don’t like being a mother
any more than a plum tree likes
bearing fruit every summer
deep purple and crimson skinned
spheres of juicy flesh
Motherhood is woven
into the tapestry of my heart
It is the scent of my
neck and breath
It is the sheen on my skin
And my pulse thrums
to its gentle rhythm
I don’t like being a mother
Motherhood is my being
Think of yourself as a garden
Your soul turned over like hard soil
So that seeds of your wildest dreams can be planted
watered by the rain
of your tears
as life picks at the weeds
grabbing at the roots
that which does not belong on your landscape
the thoughts that were strangling you
hindering your growth
stealing your nourishment
Then, after all of this toiling
just when you begin to wonder
and your patch is destined to be barren forever
an evergreen seedling sprouts
hope
If motherhood has taught me anything
it’s that beauty transcends scars
the ones that run like deep oceans
across my abdomen and thighs
it’s taught me true strength is soft
a gentle word spoken at 3 a.m.
as my blood boils
and body screams with fatigue
it’s taught me joy cannot be bought
but is found in dandelion fields
rain-soaked parks
and unexpected kisses
and for those lessons
precious jewels
I am grateful
Labor never ends
because every day
I give birth to
of myself
dear mother,
don’t care if you breastfeed or not
what your baby’s diapers are made out of
if your carpet is visible underneath all of those toys
care about the woman inside of you
the one who existed before
the two lines on the stick
don’t let her go
ISBN-13: 9781488038587
Dear Mother
Copyright © 2019 by Bunmi Laditan
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