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MUSHROOM m i n d

By Steph Raymond All Rights Reserved ©

Other / Poetry

06/11/2015

06/11/2015

He was her greatest teacher.

His existence brought the

l i g h t and t r u t h

she sought and she was forever grateful to him for that.

She memorized the sweet way his dark hair curled into tiny ringlets at the tips.

The ways his skin rolled over itself

and the way he was so content on her chest.

He had his father’s olive skin and long eye-lashes

and his mother’s nose and full lips.

He was the very best of both of them and more-

She would remember this.

And she hoped that a part of him would remember too-

Remember a soft voice and gentle hands that never touched him unlovingly-

Remember the smell of coffee and pine needles,

and the formidable love poured into him, even during the crippling days and nights of exhaustion.

But it was critical during these tired days to listen-

as he gave daily lessons in patience and empathy,

and Gemma surrendered to motherhood and her sweet boy

the moment she felt him in her arms.

It was a heavy thing Motherhood.

Giving your entire self-

mind, body, soul

entirely to another being could be devastating.

But the more Gemma lived by empathy, the deeper the bond with her son became and the

l i g h t e r

motherhood felt.

It was magic, this new title.

This new body.

And she was aware of the honesty in her

h a p p i n e s s

but she was aware of the fog too.

The fog that shouldn’t be possibly in this state of love,

but somehow is.

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