TIRED.
This ever-working, always-moving, on-the-go
mother
is tired.
My core aches and even when I
stop to rest,
I feel the Earth is moving still-
spinning, orbitting.
It will pass me by if I don’t move with it.
Look, another year
another candle on
another birthday cake,
and children run, laugh, scream
and pass me by.
Stop.
Let me hold you,
look at you,
cradle you one more time
before I’m too tired
to remember.
If I could stop the Earth’s rotation
and just float
with you in my arms,
sleeping and laughing and smiling
I would never grow
tired.
Wendy J. McDowell
August, 2010
Looking through some old files, I found this poem I wrote back in 2010, and wanted to share it here. I hope to maybe find some more of my old poetry to share here as well...
You wrote what I think. So many times... I feel very not alone. :)
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