Great Mothers Know
Only their own pain
Behind every Great Mother
There's a broken-down child
Crushed under the cap of her
Sensible heel
Begging and searching
For the tender light of love
Behind every Great Mother
Lays a carefully curated daughter
With every liberty taken
From her for fairness's sake
Expected to repeat every
Generational mistake
Behind every Great Mother
Stands a pedestal-bound son
Towering above a
Bewildered and unwanted wife
Unsure how she inherited
Someone else's broken life
Behind every Great Mother
Exists a hungry gaping void
She pulled herself up by her bra-straps
Built herself from scratch
Who are you to take?
Who are you to ask for anything?
Behind every Great Mother
There is a long, hard road
You either blaze the trail together
Or bear the heavy load, alone
Passing down the burden
Either way
K.B. Silver
My mother was a self-appointed great. She loved to brag about leaving us in our cribs until we "learned" not to cry. She was a master of delegation. I cooked, I cleaned, I did elder care duty for my grandparents, and I helped my brother with homework. I had to help him with reading all the way into high school, because, like I am not autistic, he isn't dyslexic.
Once my brother got married (the first time, his first wife passed away from cancer), my mother's obsession became being a self-proclaimed great mother-in-law. My SIL's five-year battle with cancer gave my mother ample opportunity to cultivate all sorts of "good deeds," which she, of course, kept track of and used as leverage. Doing something nice isn't really generous if you directly ask for something in return later. I don't think people should give and give without receiving love and energy in return, but emotional blackmail isn't the way to do it.
Good mothers love their children unconditionally. They would give their own life to save them. It's why Sophie's choice wasn't to choose between her own life and her child's; it was to choose between two of her children. For most mothers, the former wouldn't be a choice. Unfortunately, I know which choice my mother would have made in both instances. From my perspective, she did make it. She chose herself roll credits.
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 11~ Model Citizen
Francine’s fingers lingered on the stiff, ruffled shirt and leather holster, folded neatly and set aside on the top shelf of her wardrobe; she was starting to grow impatient, waiting for Azure’s return and the resumption of her lessons. Instead, she carefully dressed again in the stylized costume Gramma Arsenault had brought so they could finish the advertisement she was sitting for and be free of the task for the week.
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 2 months ago
Comments (2)
Powerfully raw and REAL!!! I am blown away at your sharing such a personal part of yourself so publicly. I understand healing can take a lifetime, but your writing oozed elevation of body, mind, and spirit over what you endured, like no one has the power to hurt you at that depth again. Maybe it's just my silly lens, but still I admire you and honour these lessons you've shared with the world.
You really captured the heavy weight and the hidden pain that can be passed down. It takes a lot to share this kind of experience.