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Luna Craft Jul 2019
Sometimes I remember the scorn of my family,
Effigies of bloodlines crossed into a tired face.
I remember my mother,
Her vice was appearance-
Not her own but that of others.
Every day was judgment
She’d pick us before we bloomed and left wilted children
Questioned the lack of fruit
Not with self-deprecation but with scorn
How dare we cross the farmer who sowed the seeds and watered the crops?
How dare we look towards the sky for comfort?
When that cold trowel could dig in our necks.

I remember one time my mother asked me if she was the problem
A lie, I’ve heard that question many times
How can you curse a broken human more than she does herself
And somewhere in my head, I justify it
Consider the kindness built on vanity to be kindness nonetheless
Flowers do not need to be alive to be beautiful
They can be so frailed and dried up they become immortal
A crumbling tombstone of decay
And we marvel at them
And I remember that I am a product of my mother
10:20
Regina Fable May 2019
another hull breach
most of her fortune slips away
suckled by the undercurrent
her shanties are bottlenecked messages
entangled in self-accusation
listing through distress and tide
she flags toward more sympathetic waters

love is the bright iris of balmy weather
a ballast for threadbare optimism
she makes berth in tiny lips
that pardon her insufficiency
emptiness, a welcome refuge
projected under the twinkle of satisfaction
mirroring devotion
will May 2019
something as simple as trying your shoes
it doesn't seem to be a big deal
but to me who always would refuse
never saw the appeal

until the girl across the street
saw me as she passed through
and looked at both my feet
she said "Let me show you"

she taught me a lot of things
from tying my shoes and riding a bike
to how to jump of the swings
I didn't know then as a tyke

back when I was still so small
that we would grow apart
I would loose them in a loll
the mother that held my heart
I've had many mothers, all of them never having children. I think the first will always influence me the most. Anyway It's really late, but here is my mothers day poem.
Rashmi May 2019
She had her sparkle in her eyes,
She had his smile on her lips.
Maa remembered once he told her , " If we have babies, they will have your eyes".
Babies are the blessings
Batya May 2019
though you came out of me
you really came into me
and filled me up
with your innocent love
never did my emptiness

feel so full.
Parker Apr 2019
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen
And I might yell and scream at times but
She is worth every pain I went through
And if I knew that this kind of love existed
Maybe I wouldn’t have broken my own heart so many times
I kept aiming for a target but missed it
But on this round I hit the bullseye
She looks up at me with her eyes open wide
It makes me feel as if I am her entire world
This little bundle...my little girl...
Has entirely changed my life
Finally I might be able to enjoy something
Flowers bloom in the cracks that once engraved my heart
There is not a single part of me I wouldn’t give for her
Through this, a realization is spurred:
Finally I might be able to love myself
Because she is just an extension of me on the outside
Like an ocean tide we will ebb and flow
When I feel low I can stare at her face
And understand that I belong in this place
Astrid Annmarie was born March 20, 2019 at 4:43pm, 6lbs 9oz and 19 & a half inches long.
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