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.

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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.