I Am A Mother Poem by Carol Smith

Sitting in darkness.
It wouldn’t matter if there were any light,
Reading words that confirm my many failings.
Tears begin to flow again.
I, too, am a mother
who picked flowers and read books
And held sweet and
sometimes wonderfully sticky, tiny hands
lovingly cherishing the precious subtle moments,
all of them.
Loving and cherishing my daughter my son,
the precious souls
I’ve always been thankful to have a chance to know.
Hoping to be a good and worthy guide.
Sitting in darkness.
Searching for some words, for some way so say I’m sorry.
Searching for a way to heal her pain.
Page after page of history before me,
Page after page of apparent super heroes.
Honored for their wisdom, grace, patience, endurance and strength.
Honored rightly so for traits I envy.
Other pages of sadness, hurt or loss.
Among these my words will reside.
I failed. I’ve failed them.
Weak and weary from life I lost sight of my goal.
I am here first and foremost to protect them,
Instead my untrue words of weakness and frustration
Dealt the painful blow.
Sitting in darkness.
6/15/2007