I wear this badge of
motherhood with pride for you.
But that's where it ends.
Do you understand
that my dreams are not through you-
vicarious? Spent?
Do you understand
I am far too strong a wind
to be bottled and
corked and opened when
and only when it suits you-
only for your whims?
Will you be able
to see that I am not here
as your prisoner,
but because for now
I can help you grow... and see?
Do you understand
that I will move on?
That this is not infinite?
That I am myself?
Know, fruit of my loins,
My life is not about you.
Do you hate me now?
