My Mother's Pain Is My Pain Poem by John W. McEwers

My Mother's Pain Is My Pain



Not the birth. Definitely not the birth.
I hear I cried but they were nothing compared
to the tearing of the flesh as I rocked this world's foundation,
sent it spinning off it's plane like an out-of-control top.

And not the raising.
I didn't have to clean the diapers, just dirty them.
I didn't have to feed the child that didn't want to eat, just embody him.
I didn't have to deal with the crying, just do it.
Sure, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't motherhood.

And now she has cancer.
And I have cancer.
Stage three.
Now.
Now my mother's pain is mine.
It is my turn to dirty the diapers and clean them too.

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John W. McEwers

John W. McEwers

Nova Scotia, Halifax
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