Crumbs

In this moment, I can only see the things undone,

The things not completed, or even started

Those abandoned a bare scrap past intention,

Because the argument, or the sick child, or the bottom that needs wiping or the phone call that I can't miss again or

Mostly, the dragging fatigue

Calls me away

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The things undone, they undo me

The lawn needing mowing

The weedy vines that are creeping with dexterity and speed across a growing circumference of the yard

The dirty rug that needs washing

The potato crisp crumbs mashed into the carpet that needs vacuuming

The child who had a fever last night, who is running around naked and snotty,

The dirty cut on a toe that needs cleaning

The sheets that need changing

and oh God, the washing,

the dishes,

the lunch boxes

the child now crying because I lost my temper, and for a moment, my temper

Made me lose connection with my heart.

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While pages of homework that need to be supported whimper

Under the cacophany of the screams of a library book that wants to be read,

A dress to be mended,

A lost shoe found,

Rotting food scraped from the crevices of a car seat-

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Above all this noise,

Inside, I am silent

For in this moment, I am overwhelmed.

But then when I notice that silence, another cacophany rises up

The one that begs for a good nap and waking in my own sweet time

The one that calls to come back, come back down into my body

The one that weeps for self forgiveness

And the one that keens for all the intentions lost upon the way

Amongst the washing and the lost tempers and the fatigue

The one, that if I looked hard enough, I might find

Crushed with the crumbs in the carpet

Photo by Matt Artz on Unsplash

Ten thousand miles away,

Another mother fears that the next bomb will drop on her child,

That the crop will fail and her child will starve

That her little girl will be stolen into prostitution

And her little boy into militia


But I cannot meet her cry, for I am too wrapped up in my own.

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