Thursday, 27 November 2014

A mother's role - A poem

I don't want to come in and look at you.
Tonight as I go to bed.
I ll leave that to your father
To check you, kiss you, tuck you in.
And lovingly stroke your head.

You've screamed and shouted at me all day,
And left me downright devoid. 
With fists and fire and fury,
You pushed and pounded and punched me,
To the point where I'm destroyed.

With venom you spat your words at me -
I'm not sure who was more wrought?
Independent defiance, 
Today's tantrum, tears and temper
Left us both totally fraught.

How you refused to let me hold you,
Vexing - time and time again.
Your feist, your fever, your fervour,
Biting. Kicking. Scratching. Pinching. 
Your restlessness. Your pain.

But now that you're peacefully dreaming,
And I've had the chance to calm,
I'll come and sit beside you,
And quietly sing, smooth and sooth.
While keeping you safe from harm... 

...I'll know you're but only two years old,
'T'is likely another phase'.
(But sweetheart, from a newborn, 
You arrived a ball of anger -
With such aggressive ways).

Just as well it's conditional love. 
This parenting thing is tough.
Yet I realise it's my role;
To love you, lead you, let you free.

To know that now, is enough.

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