First Childing

Mother’s Day

Child, you are the root of my hunger, 
you are the bone of my being. I was 
someone without you. I was everything 
until you came and made me more 
than I had ever been alone. I was 
myself. I was lovely and full filled 
with empty possibility. 
I was whole and then you broke me 
with the news of my mortality. 
I was frightened. I was thrilled 
by the thought of my becoming 
so necessary, so easily killed. 
You are the body I made and adore. 
I could not love or fear you more.