Mom’s Guilt.

This is motherhood,

tummy, guilt and shame untucked.

Filtered, yet Unscripted,

Sporting Heating pads while

Wearing Pretty little things to soften the realities that i coexist in.

Stuck in bed, stuck in the underbelly of grace

Epiphany after epiphany, pride doesn’t have a place.

casual and reality just don’t mix-

And that is just a reality, that i now forever live with.

“My body, My Choice.”

Before it was my dismay, it was mantra.

Before i knew what i required, i wanted to be in charge  of all of it.

Thats autonomy with no mastery.

Thats archery with no technique.

I wanted to be creative,

And now I am the creator of ALL things….

Good-Bad.

With no clear distinction or indifference.