4.12.2017

Motherhood has slammed me against the hard edges of myself
Again and again.
The transition from peacemaker to dictator takes only a moment,
And in the wake of the violence there,
My heart is left bright with bruises,
Sensitive swirls of purple and yellow, blue and green,
Places I try to protect
But bump against everyday encounters all of the time anyway.
Too often knocked against sleepless nights, loneliness, diligent work undone by a child’s cyclone of carelessness,
And I strike back with a sharp and bitter tongue
I never knew I possessed.
But I can’t escape the fray, can’t avoid the fight.
I keep my senses sharp, wipe away the blood,
I hope that this sparring will lead me to a strength and a bond that can be formed no other way.
I hope that I am not burning any bridges.

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