a scraped knee that needs tending
a sore heart that needs soothing
near you. It may belong to someone small,
someone yours to watch over, by blood or choice.
It may belong to someone big, who speaks
their ache rarely, if it at all. I do not know
if you are a mother, but I know that all of us
can do a mother's job, a father's job,
can parent one another. Somewhere near you,
there is a child (in a body big or small)
who needs hugs and kisses, or perhaps
a stern talking to. They may forget to say it,
but the kind word, the sympathetic hand,
the firm friend standing by you in hard times
is remembered. Life is hard, we are small,
and sometimes, we need our mommies.
Sometimes, you can be big enough
to care for all the little ones
who need you.
Happy Mother's Day.
(And apologies to those who saw this yesterday -- I woke up on Saturday, thought it was Mother's Day, wrote this poem, posted it, and it took me fifteen or so minutes to realize I was off by a day. I decided to just take it down and repost. Blame it on tired mommy brain! (Or time-skewed travel brain.)