A mother's poem about her son at 15. 

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?