Grace and Peace to you.
Aside from the sappy cards, the funny cards,
the cheap and the heartfelt cards,
God, this is your day, Mother’s Day,
day for givers of life through womb or arms,
by breast or heart, with eyes or lap,
a day for weavers of families, providers of food,
and for those who could not but did anyway.
Without our knowing you are one of us:
you know what it is to offer
the strength of a heart ready for breaking,
for your flesh to not be your own,
to give and to watch unnoticed,
in pangs no less rending than birth;
what it is to weep, smiling, for your beloved
though they do not hear you
as you send them into the world.
You know the improbable confounding shadow,
the dark nut of loneliness in the loaf of joy
even in the work of love among the beloved.
You know what it is to guard your wisdom
for when your growing ones ask,
long before they will ask,
to let them yearn at times without comfort,
to hold your wounded little ones
and offer no magic but the holding.
You know what it is to have failed
to raise perfect children
and to think of them as perfect,
to have hoped for so much more
and to love them perfectly.
You know the long letting go
and the unbreakable bond
as we walk out on the sweet, umbilical earth.
Today you are one of us,
your arms around your brood, smiling,
even as we remember our moms,
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