On noise and peace

I grieve 

I grieve the mother I thought I’d be 

I grieve the opportunity cost of every decision I’ve made

I grieve my regrets

And the potential regrets…

They haunt me

On days that I am fatigued

Short and frustrated 

The well-meaning warnings ring in my ears

“one day you’ll miss this”

“you’ll blink and they’re grown”

“you only have 18 summers”

“just be present, 

every moment’s a milestone”

Ugh blah blah blah…

I elbow the voice

Can’t you let me be grumpy in peace.

Peace, a privilege I have that many do not.

The word reminds me

Of the mother in Gaza 

Singing her baby to sleep

Patting his bum 

Using her voice to create a façade

Of peace

As the bombs drop audibly around them

Wow

Mothers are magic

I cry

Tears of sorrow 

Tears of awe

And some tears of self-hate

The privilege is sickening 

The complicity unbearable

This isn’t about me

Just do something

The guilty voice seems proud

At least I feel bad, it says

That makes me better than some.

You’re gross…

This voice shoves that voice

A ruckus.

Suddenly I wake up

From the dream of thoughts

As if for the first time in 37 years

To the gummy smile of my baby

I say to him

“hi mama, I am here…”

with you…

and with the cacophony of voices too

Are everyone’s thoughts this loud?

Can I just have some peace?

I laugh…

There’s that word again

I look into his eyes

Trying to hold on

To something that is real 

Even if just for one moment…

A moment of presence

And of peace

With my baby