I've been thinking about family and our emotional bonds a bit lately. Motherhood is often dressed up in pink bows and seems to be seen as something to be argued over, and taken for granted, but that love that you get when you become a mother is huge and possibly violent and all encompassing. Personally, I've only become a mother through having babies, but there are other ways and I'm sure that magically weird strong relationships develop in those too.
Anyway, before I start trying to ensure everyone is included I'll stop, because this is about me and how I feel about my kids. Perhaps there will be things in here you'll recognise.
The picture above is of me with my last baby, the one who was born in bloood and flashing lights and drama, as referred to in my last poem, Return.
I read this poem out today at my writers group, and thought I'd read it for you too. Click below for the recording.
There’s a fierceness to it.
This gentle, patient, physical love
for you, forged within the very core of me.
You who bring magical changes.
Demonstrating from the start
that love, that life, that creation
is more than wanting.
It is grown in constant discomfort
in worry and joy.
It is pain and fear and out of control
and loathing things while missing them.
It is borne and born in blood
in pain and ecstasy.
It is nourished with enforced patience
while you hold my hand and catch my eye.
And your love for my love for your love is
climbing me. And kissing fierce kisses
and needing me to lay just so, and taking
over my body and all of my mind
so that even as you walk away
my thoughts stay with you.
You, who are beyond mine
and totally your own.
© Cara L McKee 11/9/16