*****
Not baking cookies
kissing skinned knees,
or soothing troubled sleep.
Our stories of you,
serene and lovely,
are of faith.
Not faith in yourself
as mother--
that you and you alone
could calm His fears
and make it all better.
Faith, instead, that it would be made right
that which--with every fiber of your being--
every beat of your heart--
felt wrong.
Fitting and right that
your loveliness stems from
standing in the face of how much you would lose
and how little you could do about it.
"A sword will
pierce your own soul, too"
as it does ours.
Mothers.
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