A mother is born, not created.
A crying, howling, bundle is placed in her hands
And her old self is throttled in the joy of motherhood.
In its place rises a new Avatar… Motherhood.
She awakens with a wonder.
Tackling, unborn emotions,
Loving someone more than self,
Answering the demands of a new life;
She shakes off her mantle of childhood, youth, self, identity
To be ‘Just A Mother’.
She tackles her new avatar.
Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing,
Worried and exhausted,
Digging into childhood rhymes and stories, melodies and lullabies,
She waltzes from being a Mother, woman, doctor, child, matron, disciplinarian,
To a four legged horse, pantomiming cats and dogs.
Her chameleon self is awe inspiring.
How and when the new birth manifests itself
Into a entire new identity,
Swallowing her old persona is lost to her too.
And years fly by.
The infant to toddler to teen to youth.
The transformation of the born child grows out to be an independent person.
But, a Mother is stuck…
She is unable to shed her birth and kill the mother in her.
And she continues with flailing emotions to hold on to that bundle,
Retaining her identity of motherhood,
Till her grave…