For the Unmothered, it’s confusion
That comes on Mothers’ Day.
Whom should I honor? he shrugs.
Mothering is more than giving birth.
Aunts, grandparents, and others step in,
Yet it’s the Birther gets credit
In the Mother box on the tree.
(And it begs for an asterisk!)
Unmothereds get their Mothering
Wherever we can–foster moms,
Dormitory matrons, schoolteachers.
It’s these heroes I honor.
Bless the Adoptors, too!
(We should be so lucky.)
Instead of one long string,
Our Mothering comes in different lengths,
Different colors and girths.
We knot them together.
Wound into a ball,
What people see is the top layer.
WE know what’s inside,
And we’re grateful for every thread.
