God
I am the kind of mother who
touches her children every night and prays to god in heaven to make them
smarter, braver, stronger, and better than the way they were the day before.
I ask that they be kind and
direct and courteous and love their parents.
I ask to make them better at
what they love and put music in their hearts in the morning.
I pray to make me a better
mother, but if only one prayer can be answered, I want god to care for them.
I am the kind of mother that
weeps when they fail.
I shake when they are on
stage and I gasp when the spaces of breath are too long.
I am the kind of mother who
waits patiently for them to figure out the math.
I am the kind of mother who
says wipe it up, I’ll make more. It
doesn’t matter. Breathe.
I am the kind of mother who
explains boys don’t get it as fast as girls and that the pamphlet forgot to say
ask permission to touch any one under any circumstances.
I am the kind of mother who
said you can save yourself for marriage.
It is always an option.
I am the kind of mother who
says you will need your brother one day don’t talk to him like that.
I am the kind of mother who cries secretly, fearing
their future and praying I did enough.
