On being a mother

What really is motherhood?

One after another, they tumbled out,

four pairs of legs, two pairs of eyes,

And a tail for each.

I don’t count them though,

Miracles come unasked for,

And their numbers, evasive.

Through my dusty roads

I let them play,

one,two; two, one; one too many.

One sunny morning, they will run away-

towards a scrap, towards a smile;

I would not stop them,

for all the stones that haunt my dreams.

I am a mother, a ruthless b***h;

Life moves on and there always

Seems to be one miracle too many.

Though at times I wonder,

If they’d spoken a tongue,

Would I have tucked them into

A warm bed, happy and snug?

I wonder…

Reviews

[Nicole]

Interesting to think of the way a mother dog might feel about her pups. I get the very distinct imagery of the pups running about "one, two; two, one."

[Reena]

Lovely write . I love the way you ended it with such a profound question.