Sunday, 13 May 2012

Mother Processor

I am the mother processor
blending food not moods
dissecting tantrums of sibling rivalry 
slicing up ribbons of childhood frustration
into bite-size chunks.

When I’ve done this,
I begin to mix mother-juice;
that delicious blend of love, wisdom and protectiveness 
full of free radicals, nothing but the best for my family
I’m not even sure they notice.

Then I start with the vacuum cleaner
sucking up arguments of spiteful words
said throughout the day
folding up old resentments
to store neatly in the drawer.

Throughout the house I see you naked
discarded snacks and dirty clothes,
the parts of yourself you wish to hide
but I know who you really are
and keep your secrets in silence.

Fragments of toys with sharp edges lacerate my feet
as I try to clear your floor
of your symbols of active play
so completes my mother ritual
it’s the same for most of the mamas.

All rights reserved.

The beautiful artwork used to illustrate the poem is the front cover artwork from Mirror of My Future, Reflection of my Past.
Mara Friedman

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