It is raining and I want to dissolve into the sky
the paradox of motherhood
There is this paradox in motherhood - a feeling of being intensely content and full of love for the place you are in right now, with the small children and the endless piles of laundry. And a feeling of being utterly undone by it, and in a way almost desperate to run, run, run from it all.
I wrote this poem about that strange mix of feelings. I hope you like it.
it is raining and i want to leave everything by the door and go outside. it is raining and i want to walk alone under heavy green branches. hear the sound of water slapping on leaves, tapping my head. feel the mud squish underfoot. Alone. Alone. Alone. a two year old bumps her head against my leg asking for another snack. her hair curls into her eyes and she shakes her head like a lion, making us both giggle. the clock ticks slowly to 11:47 AM the rain taps the window with an insistent pressure come, come, come, my son tips the markers over the floor, searching for the exact shade of green he needs for his robot drawing. he proudly tapes it to the fridge as soon as he's finished and leaves the markers rolling around under the table. it is raining and i want to run through wet grass until i can't breathe and my feet are soaked. Alone. Alone. Alone. i turn the hot water on and start washing the dishes so i can make lunch. someone yells my name loudly, they've spilled their apple juice on the hall floor. it's raining and i take a wet rag and wipe the spilled juice, tucking an orange into hungry hands. it is raining and it will rain again and one day there wont be eager voices calling my name, crawling into my lap. i make a cup of tea and sit down with lunch, wiping sticky fingers, listening to the chatter of three small humans. it is raining and i wish i was a spiders web, bejeweled with rain droplets, trembling in the wind. alone alone alone it is raining and the four of us curl up on the couch with cups of tea slowly the sound in the room fades and all you can hear is our own breath and the insistent rain on the window and somehow, i don't need to run to it anymore.
