A Mother is a Thing Unborn

My soul is tired
I do not sleep
Instead I struggle in the deep.
I fret and worry
Toss and turn
As in my head the worries burn.
Am I this,
Or am I that?
Will I succeed or just fall flat?
(Did I fail her?
Did she die
Because I could not answer "Why"?)
Too much to process!
Too much to take!
The thoughts spin round, their thirst won't slake.
A cup not empty,
A cup not full...
I feel bereft and pitiful.
I love my child.
(And shedrivesmenuts!
With all the ifs and ands and buts!)
I hope I show her
All the things
She needs to thrive as a human being.
A heart that walks
Out side my body
I fret that my strengths are too shoddy.
No right to teach
No Wisdom here
Too many things that feel unclear.
I feel unworthy
Not enough
I'm made of all the broken stuff.
I long to help
My fragile thing,
To help her voice be strong, to sing.
There's love and struggle
Mirrored here,
A mirror full of all my fears.
I want to hand her love and glory
To help her live a braver story
She is my light
And all that's good
She's challenge too, and rich in moods.
I think it is a complex thing
This delicate act
Of Mothering.
A mother is a thing unborn
Until a child comes along
And teaches us to sing this song.
My soul is tired
I do not sleep
Instead I struggle in the deep.
I fret and worry
Toss and turn
As in my head the worries burn.

(C) Tanya Anguita