When the Journey Began

The rut is so comfortable

I forget that I’m in one…

Until the mud and clay

suck at my feet

and pull me down.

I gasp for breath and wonder why

as the walls of the rut

  tumble down around me.

 

Claws spring from the delicate hands of daughters.

Even if I can’t forget the sweet children are now grown,

     my heart is open to them like a mother’s arms stay

out of habit, and history, and old bonds they broke, not I.

 

Memories of their innocent doe-like eyes

     keep me off balance,

keening with the effort of owning empty arms

  with the need to rock and sing lullabies

    to soothe aches that no longer need my care.

I’ve helped to make them strong

     Encouraged them to let me go.

         So why am I surprised they do?

Oh mother dear, see here, see here

  We really don’t need you near.

 

Empty nest syndrome is simply so passé. 

  

 

 

I realize I’m in the rut again,

   But I can’t seem to stop the blood

That pours from my soul

   From the wounds I don’t dare speak of.

(They don’t show do they? 

Like the hem of a red lace slip from under your Sunday best…)

 

Mustn’t whine, mustn’t cry

Mustn’t make them ask me why

 

Mother: a temporary state of being that had all the earmarks of permanence

When the journey began. 

   

© 2007 C. Harter Amos

Reviews

[Bubo]

Empty nest syndrome is simply so pass�.

I dread that day when my "mothering" days are over and they move out and on............purpose served,
but will I be forgotten?!
Fantastic piece, the best I have read for ages, makes you really feel for all those caring mothers, and
made me think of all older Mums now on their own.

Mustn't whine, mustn't cry

Stick a needle in my eye

Mustn't make them ask me why

Really fabulous emotions portrayed.

[Barry S. Maltese]

The happy fact is that it eventually all comes full circle. You go from being the Great Parent, to being the intrussive know-it-all, to being not so bad after all! You did a great job of relaying the hurt and frustration that we all go through as parents. Great work

[Emily B]

I find myself rocking in checkout lines on a fairly regular basis. The cries of babies not mine, start the engine, and I'm back to soothing a crying child as if I've always and will always have a babe in arms. This was a wonderful poem. There were so many "moments" for me. Thank you for having the words before I needed them.

[Robert Luna]

Wonderfully written. I felt some many emotions coursing through me as i read this. and your definition of mother is so perfect. You really captured a sense of a journey of a mother coming to terms with letting a child go. I really adored this piece and thought it was so vivid in your imagery.


Great Job!!!!

[Angelheaded Hipster]

I adore your definition of Mother....and I thought before Mother was the word God on the lips and hearts of children...
somehow, your longing to be able to mother your children make the other definition pale in comparison.

Your writings are sooo lyrical....you have some awesome talent!

[TL Boehm]

I realize I'm in the rut again,

But I can't seem to stop the blood

That pours from my soul

From the wounds I don't dare speak of.

(They don't show do they?

Like the hem of a red lace slip from under your Sunday best�)

I can't articulate what I feel - but the feeling is no less strong for my lack of words. It reminds me when I have thought - how can I love someone so much - knowing that love is not returned - at least not in the fury of parental hell.
A poignant poem. Soulful and sad. Beautifully written.