Mothering

I Thought I Was a Fertility Goddess

The Venus of Willendorf

The Venus of Willendorf

by Becca Hensley

That Goddess of Willendorf,
stone figure unearthed
by sturdy farmer’s hands,
speaks to me.
And now I burst with children,
I am jam packed, crammed,
congested with little hands
and dirty faces.
I embrace them, even
as they wriggle to break free.

But now she warns me
of ominous days to come.
Days without reason
when infants have grown
taller than me,
smarter than me,
with arms that reach further,
voices that sing louder,
and legs that run faster.

I make clean faces,
sew buttons,
scramble eggs while I can.
She whispers to me:
things I must know
in the afternoon.
She smiles demurely
when she tells me that
from their clean faces
come sharp words that make
bloody gashes;
that strong arms will
push me away.

Oh, I would bleed gladly
to go backward and sleep
twisted in their baby blankets,
softly touching their tiny feet
with mine.

from Rattle

Please join the conversation!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.