A Mother’s Gift

A Mother’s Gift

A Poem by

Micaela Bicknell

Back-bending pain, tearful pleas, agonizing cries,

a deep breath and it is done.

A wail of injustice, a loss of safety,

whimpering of fright,

soft warmth wrapped

around you.

Strength in the gentle arms that hold you,

secure in the gruff voice that speaks calmly,

no more tears gliding down the round cherub cheek,

eyes as blue as the cornflower,

skin as soft as the rose petal,

we counted them together,

ten fingers,

ten toes.

8 years later, you carry that blanket wherever you go,

soft, silken satin no longer bright with pink

dull stains mar the once shiny side,

thin from where

you worried it in

your fitful sleep.

Not long for the world of dolls and innocence,

those years we fear are rushing down upon us,

like ash from a

volcanic eruption.

Make-up, boys, clothes and shoes,

the once-pink rag, still soft and warm,

hidden under the pillow, no longer holding

a place of honor in your heart. At night you’ll

cling to it like a drowning victim to a life preserver

when your

heart’s been

broken.