The urge to dip my pen and write is fighting me. Drowing out my other senses. I have no fear in this yet I stand still. Listless in the making that is my only vital flaw. I must write to ease it all. The cramping in my hand just lets me know I am alive. Because in reality you are all that I need. My sweet muse. My reason to breathe. I can’t help but hear poetry when I see your smile. And though it takes a hold of me so violently I can not bring myself to fear it. I may stand still and listless, I can’t help but revere it. Writing is my most vital flaw of which you are my reason.
Today my daughter got into trouble. Nothing major but I can tell that it left a stain on the day. She wouldn’t listen so I yelled. After that moment she refused to talk to me. Even after I apologized and asked for her forgiveness she did not speak. Only later did she tell me that I hurt her feeling.
My daughter is five.
I should have more respect for this tiny human and yet. I think I put to much on her shoulders. I think I expect to much and get angry. She isn’t the best listener. She gets overly excited about pretty much everything. But that does not deserve my anger no matter how frustrating it can be at times.
My daughter is five.
I feel like such a monster. I told her so. I told her how I did not wish to hurt her. I apologized and asked for forgivenesd but…I also told her that it was ok. She did not have to accept my sorry. She did not even have to forgive me. What I said, what I did, left a stain on our day. I would do anything to go back and change what I did.
My daughter is only five.
And yet she lives her life with a mother who struggles with mental illness. She knows emotions like other children know candy and shopping sprees. She can tell you safety plans for every occasion and exactly what it means when mommy can’t seem to sleep.
Yet she tells me I am the best mommy ever. That she loves me no matter what. That she is proud of me. She looks forward to my hugs. She smiles so brightly when I tell her how I feel…even on the bad days. I am so proud of her and I tell her. I tell her all the time. I may be a monster but in her eyes I am worth it. In my eyes she is a reason.
A/N Normally I do not talk about the inspiration for my post but this one I had to include. This poem came to me while looking at one of my friends creations. They had sewed together a bag that I just absolutely adore. Being able to see every step they took to making it. The energy, the heart, the literal blood at times, made me appreciate those who craft with their hands even more. Now, I am not gifted as they are, and even though I found some inspiration in what they had made, I had to show it another way. This is my creation and I am forever grateful for the support my friend has given me.
In return I am sharing Laurens work. If you like this poem please take a look at their Etsy page. They make custom work and are more than willing to work with people to get them that desire. Most, if not everything, is one of a kind. So if you like standing out and being unique, give it a go, if not, still leave them some love!! They will surely appreciate it.