Always Yours

Posted in Monthly, Poetry at 7:27 am by Pasha

By Pasha Holiday

Many moons ago, you stood in this place.
My shoes are yours.

The dirt under my nails is yours.

My ache of motherhood
Is yours.

The praying for them to stay this little forever
Is yours, too.

The breath of sweetness when i’m nose to nose with my own babies
These smells are yours

The blur-through-tears of a tiny, not-so-small,
and little person hands reaching trustingly for mine
These are yours.

The laughter a tickle brings, giggle fits from a game of drop it-pick it up
These sounds of mine
They are yours.

Each plump red strawberry that they pick and ask mama to eat the green top. Sweet peas on the vine birthed from the simple flower. Sunshine-warmed tomatoes so fresh and fragrant - popped like candy. The ones mama saves for them to savor, never tasting her own.

A childhood that blooms before me
It is yours.

The chubby baby knees, big blue sparkling eyes that scream love,
the milk full happiness that is ours
It is yours, too.

Because this is the path that you forged before I became this person, this human,
This mama.
Yours and mine.

The jokes we share, the thoughts that connect us, the day we were born.

I sew the threads of motherhood that ties us together forever

Because motherhood is mine now -

because it was always yours.

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