I wish my mother was strong. Like Boudica or Athena,

Like Aphra Behn or Margaret Cavendish.

Self-possessed and brave.

With meaning. With character. With passion.

I would accept those in place of love.

A mother connected to her surroundings,

Sensitive to her emotions and open and willing

To share herself. A mother I could be proud of

Who may not be proud of me but a strong woman,

Fearless, whom I could look up to.

Like a dream, with long strong hair, firm, metal enmeshed

Breast and armoured thigh plates on the biggest

Bravest silent steed.

A woman to defend me, rescue me, help me be a woman.

I have her. She is mine. I am hers.

She is all this good.

She is not my mother. She is my best friend.

My other. M-other. My M.

I am a woman now. Brave and strong.

Gone is the sadness of my loss.

Can I become mother? Will I be good enough,

Brave enough and strong enough to defend myself and my child and my lover,

My family?

Yes. Because my M-other tells me so.


© Jennifer Winterburn


Leave a Reply

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.