I have never
borne a child.

But there is
a part of me
that craves
the catharsis
of seeing something
so delicate
and pure
and so much
a part of myself
come from within,
from a place
of love.

Some days
I wonder
how I could have
ever been trusted
to bring up
something so good
(in humility)
with so much beauty
(in modesty)

every moment
it begs
for truth--
how could I not
give this little one
my name?

Other days
the roles are reversed
and suddenly it is
my fears that
are comforted
my tears that
are dried
my passion,
confusion,
or other outburst
borne with grace
on the page--
in these moments
the begetter
is held together.

No,
my children are not
flesh and bone
but rather
heart and soul

and my job
is to prepare them
to go out
and change
the world.

An evil mother, with grey hair
Flaunts her red gown
Desiring, her selfish,
wild daughters
to get royally crowned

After a painful death
Her real hidden face
Once cunningly cloaked
Is finally invoked!
She was a sugar coated pill!

Soon the dishes and the laundry
The sweeping of floors
Are forever those
stepdaughter's daily chores

The clever lady, never gaiety
gets the royal call
She plans devilish things
Locking Cindrella down
Wildly tearing and ruining
Her charming ball gown

In the end, she's left cursing
the perfectly fitting shoe
She deserved that
Old cruel shrew!

But why is it always
The step ones forever cruel?
Why O why? Is such a mother shown?
What would a child feel
Who has a mother, step
Even, if she isn't mean or vain
The child will think, she's Lady Tremaine!

Labor pain
I write this through a haze
Going in and out remembering grey days

I woke up from a dream
Where I had to fend from three
They didn’t even know me
I was only 13

Labor pain
I’ve moved past the blame
But how can make sure
You’re Journey doesn’t go the same?

I wanna protect you from  the world
But the world taught me
It is what you make it
When I was only 15

Labor pain
This is my labor pain
I’ve cut the chord
So you won’t have to feel my shame

Labor pain
This is my own labor pain
It’s not yours
I’m doing the best I can
To make sure your playground is free rein

I never thank you for being the sole orange-blossom in my garden.
Laughter fills your pockets and spills into the air like bubbles, adhering to all who pass.
Only you know how to turn anger into flowing yellow carnations and chocolate swirls.
Vibrant amber sun-eyes glint on your face; you elevate me with your common sense and faith.
Every night, when I was little, you crocheted a quilt of stories in my head so I could sleep.
Your touch turns my tears into dragon-flies fluttering
Off my cheeks, reminding me that I am never alone.
Upon my shoulders, I wear your strength as a jacket against the cold.

Dawn
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth and Laura, and all good mothers

Bring your peculiar strength
to the strange nightmarish fray:
wrap up your cherished ones
in the golden light of day.

                                  Amen

Originally published by The Lyric

Keywords/Tags: Motherhood, good mothers, maternal, nurturing, caring, strength, courage, love, compassion, tenderness, human angels, golden light

What does lockdown mean for me?
I'm housebound anyway.
People think I'm always free,
I'm now that 'at home' mom everyday.

This is also what they thought,
When I told them I'm a singer.
'If you don't own charttoppers,
You're just a failure.' is what lingered.

I found it shameful and difficult,
Broke down several times,
I couldn't find my own identity,
Searching for myself felt like a crime.

41 weeks and 2 days I carried her,
My little angel, the apple of my eye,
I'm now learning a basic fact -
- A lifetime flies faster than light.

So fast, I don't know what day it is,
I'm living each day by the hour.
Before I know it, it's bedtime again..
What exactly is within my power?

When the birds stretch their wings,
At the crack of a quiet dawn.
The time I was raised to wake and listen,
To the Tanpura, the sound of Om.

This is my one true power,
Whether they believe it or not.
A lockdown may not define it,
I'm a musician, a mom, not a robot.

These clear blue skies at spring,
Came again after a barren season.
I'm housebound and learning again,
Another chance to live it right is my reason.

Happiness in its purest form
Lies in those unsuspecting moments
The circular movement of your little feet on your pedals
As you rode solo for the first time
Caught me
Off guard

My chest swollen; my eyes pricking
I wasn’t expecting such unadulterated joy
Your joy encompasssed me entirely
Transporting me elsewhere

And your little tongue at the corner of your mouth
Signifying mischief
Accompanied by your instinctive bopping
To the natural rhythms of your surroundings
Dispersed my heavy raincloud
Diverted by your pure white light

Yet within those moments of joy
That suddenly caught tough old me off guard
Lurks a dark companion
Joy’s counterpart
Beneath the precipice
Urging me to look down and consider how things could be
If the light were to falter
Sending me crashing into night.

Shine bright my little ones
Shine bright

The centre
Warmth that lends life, strength and purpose
My Sun
Bright; I am a flower unfurled, fragrant under his light.

My delicate dance, hard but only pressure forms diamonds on the mirror.
I see me complete in you.