If I Were Your Mother ~ National Poetry Month, Day 29

If I were your mother, sweet soul
I would know immediately
When granite smashed against granite
I would feel you
A hot bulb
Furiously burning in my soil
Thirsty for another chance
To bloom.

I would take you in the early morning glint
To place you on silver shafts of grass
I’d let the sun rise on your rosy face
And I’d whisper the secrets
Of centrifugal force.

I would pad through fields of four leaf clovers
You, on my hip
I’d show you the way my bare feet sink
In the red mud
I’d look into the center of your eyes
Obsidian black
Glassy volcanic stone
And you’d look into mine.

We would picnic on the river
Blowing dandelions and eating pickled cucumbers
Counting dragonflies and crisping under the sun
I would love you violently
I would hold you to my heart.

But maybe, eventually
You would find my storms too turbulent
My need for silence
Would create a wedge
A door, between us
With a complicated combination
We would forget
Maybe I would wish
I was better
Maybe you would think
I was selfish…

No matter.
If I were your mother, my dearest one
We would love each other endlessly
In a tangle, in a tapestry
In a delicate spider web.

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