The fragrant bush by the front door that always blooms in May, just around “Mothering Day”

Each year we celebrate Mothers Day in the U.S., and this year my eyes were opened a little bit to those around me who are not mothers, women who are not yet married, women who are married without children, etc., and to remember that this day could be hard for some of them– especially for those who desire to have children but do not have them.

The other thing I am more aware of is the many women who perhaps are not biological mothers, but who still are “mothering” others in their lives. I enjoyed a post on another blog, which toward the end of the article, suggests that “Mothering Day” is a more apt term. And I agree.

So, here I share a “Mothering Day” poem, which I wrote a year ago. It is about me, holding my own child (yes, I am a mother), and also about the many children who have no one to hold them.ย 


The Longing Arms

Filled now and spilling
When arms hold
And hush the
Long anticipated one-
Sweet love requited.

Did I know
How empty they were-
My arms, heart-
Before you?
You laughed at the emptiness
And swallowed it whole.

โ€ฆof the wind
she is, a soft kiss
come alive
the eyes and face of those with
thin, motherless arms.


(Note: the poem is written in a specific structure, called a “Shadorma”, with the following syllabic structure in each stanza: 3-5-3-3-7-5).