The first layer to go,
The initial frontier,
Is when that small knife
Cuts straight through the fear.
You release it, let go
And feel it disappear
Because you know in your heart
There’s no room for it here.
And then they go deeper,
Next layer uncovered,
Slicing up vanity,
Which will scar once recovered.
But don’t worry my dear,
In time you’ll discover,
The scar’s a big part of
What made you a mother.
You take some deep breaths,
And think how it’s true.
It’s the last time your lungs,
will fill up theirs too.
And there’ll be so much beauty,
In the scar and the view,
When their finger can trace
The door they came through.
And still deeper to go,
The hands in the room,
How many layers
Until they get to your womb?
There’s ego, and selfishness,
Weakness, fragility.
And then there’s the voices,
Which doubt your ability.
So many layers
Are breached by the blade.
So many walls
Protect those that you made.
But in order to grow,
To care for another,
We piece back together,
The seams of a mother.
Stronger in heart,
In mind and in soul.
You now lie there empty,
Never feeling more whole.
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