Mama

Mama.

I saw the light inside your eyes dissolve in unshed tears.

Your smile hid a trembling lip as we shared unspoken fears.

We watched that little girl run off, happy, careless, free,

We watched her mama hold her tight, and both wished that it were me.

I remember every heartbeat, each one a twisting stab of pain,

I remember crying out to God, why was I passed by again?

Their lives are full of babies, of sleepless nights, of joy,

Why is my mom left begging You for a granddaughter or grandboy?

Mama.

I’m sorry I can’t fulfill your dream, though you say that you don’t mind.

I know how much it hurts you, although you say that you are fine.

I know you long to see the children that your children get to raise,

You long to see the legacy for which you pray and praise .

I’m sorry that I’m broken, that my body is defective,

I’m sorry that my cautious heart has to be so damn selective.

It’s not from lack of trying, I’ve fallen hard before,

It’s just that men think me too headstrong, and to love me’d be a chore.

Mama.

I swallowed back my sorrow as your eyes skipped over mine,

I can’t decide what hurt me more, your grieving heart or mine.

You deserve to have your love used up, you have so much to give,

I saw your face go soft and wistful, a sight I always will relive.

I wanted to say sorry in so many words and more,

I wish you could be “grandma” to maybe two or three or four.

I’m sorry that I’m broken, and know my arms ache too,

To hold my dreamt-for child, and to bring them home to you.

You’re meant to be a grandma, but you’re stuck with me, I fear,

And I know that wish grows sharper still with every passing year.

I’m sorry that I’m broken, in far more ways than one,

It’s our longing that I’ll carry till my earthly race is run.