not about you

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?