rise to the surface – in process

I woke this morning
Filled with dreams,
With want

But the want frightens me
As I am unable to untangle it
From discontent
And heartache

But when I am quiet
And honest
My dreams rise to the surface
Like a sea turtle in mama ocean
Raising his head out ever so gently
Through the surface of the water
For a bit of air.

When I look them in the eye
I see they are not a thing
To be afraid of.


Thursday morning

Stuck inside on the only nice day in week
longingly looking at the window
feeling both trapped and glad
at the same time.

Barley understanding myself
I am happy there is no one here
to try to explain it too.

I donโ€™t know what I want.
I want both.
I want neither.
I want it all.
Whatever that means.

I donโ€™t even know what it means.

So I go back to looking out the window.

A million times

Already I am forgetting
the desperation of
very early motherhood.
Perhaps that is for the best
but I have always feared
forgetting, and this is
no different.

I cling to the real,
the memory,
for better or worse.

Late at night I felt
both love and rage
for the creatures
sleeping beside me.

A husband tries
but cannot understand.
It is only a motherโ€™s
mix of emotion,
felt and discarded
a million times
under each new moon.