My boy
Is smiling;
Grinning from ear to ear.
He’s got one dimple on his right cheek
And it just
Lights me up inside to
See me reflected in eyes
That bare even a mere resemblance to mine.
To call something your own
That breathes outside of your lines-
It’s heartbreaking
Ad beautiful
And like being drunk
On the finest wine.
Being a mother is every cliché in the book,
And better.
But being your mother, Atlas,
Being your mother
Gives me hope;
Unbridled hope for the world
You will grow up in,
For the people you will meet
And the person you will become.
This universe needs you and it will try
To shake you up and
Hurt you,
But I will teach you to look it
In the face and roar.
I will lay out every avenue and stop sign I know
So you can navigate this world
Better than I did,
Better than my father,
And better than his.
Being a mother means
Looking at your face and
Wondering how someone so broken
Could make something so wonderful,
And it’s like suddenly every road of my life
Makes sense because
It brought you
Here.
Compelled Perplexity 