poem: A Single Woman Considers Motherhood

My body is taking command, I think-

   says, it is now, or never. Plan for it;

I triple dog dare you- we have bypassed

      all other options, you know.

So long I have stood, unsure, uneasy, maybe-

  of this thing, this such small thing

    for everyone in the world maybe

but me. No understanding this supposed

     desire I "should" have- but also

 recognizing that intrinsic drive-

leave something, give back-

 don't I already give back, though,

     so many ways? forms? Why, this?

But then I think of who you could be-

   and I guess what scared me at 30

now makes me smile, think,

    maybe I got this, after all.

What is after all, anyway? After who-all

   what-all? After all is said is done,

  aren't you afraid of being lonely?

No, not loneliness; that never frightened

  me. Better lonely than trapped in

   insufferable circles with those who 

diminish you. But rather, this sense,

   now maybe I have something to give back.

Just that, the having something-

     recognizing that someone else might

even want it... marks the shift. Last year,

   and this, light years apart in time spans

  measured by what we usually just call

"months."

So I say, I am as prepared as I ever will be.

  I'll ready the vessel for seeding, look for ways

 to get them watered; ways that will not

    cost more than my life can bear.

   Some transactional conversation

that will assure some man

 of my complete inanity and ability

to drive a "hard" bargain.

You, I prepare to invite-

 to my kitchen

often uncleaned, my disregard for standards

   of womanly beauty, my propensity

        for fighting with the world. This could all

 be yours. I offer, unapologetically,

        the humility

    of my space, the choice to accept- or not-

 I suppose, resides wholly

    with you.

I am imperfect and partially healed,

   I see across time and space,

 and you will probably

have to navigate at least two

      worlds, probably with just me and my

wacked out extended family.

 This human being

  is flawed beyond redemption, she does not

seek that of you.

 She is scared but she says, if

  you choose, she will welcome you

     with all the tenderness and love that

unperfected human hearts

    ever learned how to give in the midst

 of the glory, madness, trial, and bliss

      of the solitary decision.

 

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Hi Marie,

Boy we are such creatures, aren't we. We're not the detached, intellectual, rational, high-minded being that we sometimes think we are. We have feet of clay and we're rooted in the earth. A very interesting write. But despite all of our creature urges, we are able to look back a things as say, "My, look t me. Look at what I'm doing and thinking." It's at times like this that we feel the smallest, I think, and I also think that it is important to remember that we are small. We should not get too inflated an ego about who we are.

Wonderful poem, Marie. Greatly enjoyed.

Rick

[Zoomout]

As always , the most real poetry you can find
You should do it , you have so much love to give

[h d e rushin]

forgive me for commenting here. I am not qualified, nor the servant of mystery enough to understand
what cannot be completely understood. I guess poetry makes it easier like passion is made
easier if its based on some gospel narrative. But you have touched on something, even
allowed the examination of a single persons desire for the future of civilization. And it's
alright "if the earth doesn't tremble and rivers don't tumble uphill, if your mothers crystal
vase doesn't shatter and no extinct species are sighted anew" as Ellen Bass said so eloquently
in her poem "Ordinary Sex". All that matters is the acknowledgement of human imperfection,
which IMHO is the primordial ooze that brings forth life.

"The human being is flawed beyond redemption", which is code for, "I am ready for or in condition
to undertake a destined function". This is your finest work my friend.

dana

[Marie Anzalone]

As my trusted friend, you are more than eminently qualified to comment on any damned piece of writing of mine that you want. And I love the anecdote you provide; it fits beautifully with the... shall we say, transactional nature of the situation. I am currently reading Diane Ackerman's "A Natural History of the Senses," which if you have not read, you need to. She breaks down and blends the biology, chemistry, folklore, and absurdity surrounding how we experience the world through the five senses. Wonderful stuff. That is how I feel here, with this topic...

[Emily B]

you will be wonderful! you will love and be loved beyond anything you have ever imagined!

[Marie Anzalone]

Some doors could only ever be unlocked by the right support making you feel unafraid. Unlocked. Not yet opened. One small step at a time. But, yes, I think I would do ok. And even THAT is such a huge admission...

[Emily B]

i would choose you - to be my mother

[Raquelita]

you honor me far beyond my meager ability with words, my friend