Life is so fair that it seems
Sinister at times
Every manner of man exists
And every manner of emotion
Both grotesque and divine.
I am neutral despite
My desire for goodness,
So devastatingly neutral.
Chaos is my courage, the urge
To link whatever the risk implied.
If a minute was all you had to define
Yourself what would you rather be doing?
I drink chocolate milk from a glass bottle
Letters to self, addressed to no one in particular
But jettisoned into the thrum of ongoing traffic.
I gave birth once and in that moment
Nothing else mattered but this unseen entity within.
My fear, my selfish irredeemable fears forgotten
In the presence of a miracle, in a temple of ghosts,
I too was beautiful, certain, present, a mother.
A chill finds its ways into my bones,
Into the velvety, larval center.
My heart is heavy and grey with excess.
The stones here lack that particular crunch.
I am lost, so very far from the mother
That I was when I first held her.
My worries have grown exponentially,
My efforts have effects
That I can never quite predict.
She has a mind of her own
And it does not understand why
Despite the reasons given.
I wonder if my intentions
Truly are as I have portrayed them
Or if I am just desperate?
She is so human, this child
I have been given, she carries
Band-Aids in her pocket
Encase someone else gets hurt
And I think despite me she is beautiful.
Despite everything she cares,
If too much at times but my God
She is not numb and what more is there?