Put

I was put on this earth
to put you on this earth, dear girl.

I was put here
to pry open the ribs of an ancient love,
to bend bones back beyond myself until
the Beauty insisting on acknowledgment
broke me apart.

I was put here
to pull myself apart,
to do that…
to break wide open and let you out.

Nothing more in this life is necessary
nothing more important
nothing more vital
nothing next
nothing to come

It is this.
This is the heart of it.
This is the art of it.

My God!
My Lord!

Motherhood shows no mercy on the ego.
Motherhood slays all of the dragons of duality,
the delusions of what “I” could be, should be, would be.
Thinking therefore putting myself aside.

And I do not a natural martyr make.
My marriage to entitlement was
a fantasy of grand things I sensed I deserved
big language,
big letters,
after my name.

Then, one night, after everyone had gone.
I laid all the big words down and stood there.
Down there. Down to the bones of it.
I stood there,
and felt
everything.

Stood there.
Stayed there.
Stayed here.
I stay here.
I stay put.

I was put on this earth
to put you on this earth, dear girl.

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