As mothers we love unconditionally,
that's the brief of motherhood...........................
till the heart forms a misshapen mass,
not able to beat the steady rhythm of unconditional love,
only a thready pulse of remembered love,
this journey to the edge of love is slow,
measured by tears and doubt,
frantic steps and missteps back and forth,
giving one's self away to hold on,
a tug of war between destinations,
travelling between the relics of mother love and castles in the air.............................
the love directed and sustained towards non adult children is assured,
the world of adult child and mother love appears fraught,
it is no longer so easy to forgive careless and cruel words,
the language is no longer cushioned by the angst of teenage years,
the barbs of indifference are not hidden by the cuteness of big eyes immersed in fantasy,
separation is no longer fused with connection or interest,
the shadows of warped wounding strain at the bindings of mother love,
a crumpled heart becomes numb to the responsibility of mothering adult children,
ambivalence waltzes with the echoes of love,
duty's whisper sways no allusion,
once cherished tenderly.........
converted polite strangers with no love hold......................
a heart deformed by continuing loss can not sustain...........................
