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I dreamed about my mother being pregnant with me.
When I had my morning sickness,
I could feel my mother’s sickness
As she carried me in her womb.
When I felt my pain,
I felt my mother’s pain too.
When I couldn’t sleep at night,
I knew that neither she could sleep all those years ago when
she was expecting me.
Now I know how my mother felt,
As I felt the same pain.
My mother is a saint.
Motherhood is saint.
From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page 26.
| 2009 |
