Strangers hover over your swollen belly:
Was there a window? Were smiles real?
The clock ticks in your heart.
Your hands caress your abdomen,
already saying goodbye.
You give me to the air,
knowing enough to understand
the coming of winter on
this first day of spring.

adoption giving



(top:; bottom: 

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in family, Gratitude, Humans, Kids, Poem and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Mother

  1. Heather Cai says:

    This poem reminds me of how “Holy Mother” is holy. I love my mother too.

  2. narble says:

    🙂 I am currently in the process of trying to figure out who my birth mother was.

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