A gentle rhythm
Inhale, exhale, and repeat
Stave off all that’s bad
It’s so hard to start
But the pounding of my feet
And the sweat dripping
Keeps me sane
A gentle rhythm
Inhale, exhale, and repeat
Stave off all that’s bad
It’s so hard to start
But the pounding of my feet
And the sweat dripping
Keeps me sane
Watching her healing
Is terribly frightening
It’s like when a child
Gets close to an edge
You want to snatch them up and
Hug them tight to you
So you’re never scared
But, that’s the problem…you see
Because the healing
Is not about me
She has to heal for herself
All I do is watch
Labor division
Is never equitable
Where kids are involved
Hard work is not done
In the moments or seconds
That come after pain
No, hard work is done
In the smile of encouragement
The breath of patience
The tears of frustration
Hard work is not just blood or sweat
Those are momentary…
Fleeting
Hard work is done
In the creation of the scar
And the faded memory it becomes
Sometimes in our lives
We need a break from it all
True for children, too
My fourteen year old…
Said she needed a reset
As a parent, it’s hard
Hearing you’re not wanted
But it’s a valid feeling
For a teen to have
Especially when…
So many things are going on
So, she’s at grandmas
With no phone, but lots of love
For her reset.
And as for me?
The waves crash in front of me
Teal and turbulent
Foaming with worry and tousled with love
For my kid who carries so much.
I feel like I’m losing
Across the table, you stare
With hollowed out eyes
Eyes that scare me
Because I’m worried for you
Worried for all the feelings
I cant possibly help you manage
Not by myself. Not without help
And, don’t worry. We will get you help.
But in the meantime
I feel useless
Wishing I could take your pain
And fear
Ball it up and throw it far away
Crush it into dust
And send it up into space, letting it orbit around a star instead of your brain
But i can’t
I can’t do anything but stand by you.
And tell you I love you
Time easily slips
Seemingly slow, for the young
Crashing on the old
A child…a baby
Now moving out of the house
It’s the oldest tale
The mothers story
I knew time barreled toward me
Yet…I’m not prepared.