Motherhood

Motherhood means greasy bangs and sore tits.
It means pacifiers in your coat pocket and
dark bags housed under your eyes.
Your ears suddenly have the power of all the ears in the world
and you never need to sleep again.
It means nutrition and hydration and horrid posture.

Motherhood implies that you have to live forever.
You must have brute strength and not feel hunger, pain, want.
Your youth dissipates, and adventures are no longer selfish.
Attention is used as a tool rather than a gift.
You have late nights and early mornings;
every morning feels joyful and every evening feels like air.

Motherhood convinces you that love exists.
The breath of genetics seizes you and creates wonder.
You believe in magic.
You forget concepts like betrayal, annoyance, and dishonesty.
Your patience exponentially races forward as your energy coagulates,
and a smile makes you explode with pure joy.

Motherhood forces you to understand truth, beauty, inheritance.
It makes you see, for the first time.
Whatever rotten politics or burning trees lie in the way,
you value optimism for the first time perhaps ever.
The future lays in your arms, breathing and flailing and
warmer than all the emotions you've ever felt.