When I close my eyes I can vividly remember the moment.
A poem by Lisa Bierman.
Dealing with mental illness takes an awful lot of strength. This poem is about when the strongest thing is to let go.
This is the poem I never thought I'd get to write, in the days when I wondered if anyone would ever call me “mom.”
Laundry, dishes, cleaning, the carousel spins and spins, yet I’m immobilized by my captor’s cries, chained to this chair, once again.
I should hope the signs of their presence will linger long after they have left their mother love for the love of someone/something/someplace else.
I wonder who else will love her as wholly as I do. Her perfectly imperfect self. Her beautiful little soul.
A poem by Gillian Kessler.
And when the motion finally slows—just enough for him to recollect my presence, and reach out to me—is it only my imagination, or is the boy I lift in my arms clinging to me a little less tightly than the one I put in moments ago?
Beauty is the softness of and stretchmarks on your tummy where your little miracles grew.