by Annie Patterson
A Secret Longing
I have a longing,
A secret longing.
It seeps out of my insides like sweet clover honey,
Slowly dripping from the jar.
It buzzes inside me like the gentle hum of bees
On a hot summer’s day.
But it’s a secret.
It lives in the softest, most tender spot of my heart
And on many days like this one, it aches.
It is a mother’s ache.
A Mother’s Ache
Softly,
I stroke your hair and
Place a kiss on your forehead.
Nothing could wake you.
I stretch my legs and re-adjust my body.
I’ve been sitting by you in the dark
For a while now,
Just watching your face.
The room is quiet except for the turtle’s water filter.
Its whirring noise mixes my thoughts together
Like a blender.
We fought tonight,
You and I.
I’m sorry for what I said.
I’m even sorrier for your words;
Words that stung like sharp needles,
Pricking my skin again and again.
This time they went deep and
I fought back tears like a mother warrior.
I did not want you to see…this time.
Moonlight
Moonlight has entered
Through your bedroom window
And touches your face.
You glow with a soft light,
Barely there at all.
I can see your goodness now.
It is like the moonlight:
Unpredictable and precious.
Moonlight on dark cedar water at midnight;
Moonlight on the meadow,
When the cool mist rises off warm grass
And sleeping wildflowers;
Moonlight that hides behind the clouds
And forces weary travelers
To find shelter for the night.
Slowly, I close my eyes and rest.
Tonight, I will let the moonlight wash over me.
Perhaps it will shine
Its healing light into
This mother’s weary heart.
Used by permission.