Poem Prayer

Doesn’t silence my mind 

Every cuddle, so kind 

Infant, world, future, on my chest 

I think I’m doing my best 

Sweet, late and great cousin, David, 

This room holds a steady, wild kindness 

So, did our ancestors do more with less? 

What's there to say: 

I work all day 

Know I wake up in the dark night 

To feed her 

After a day staring at screens; bright and light

This poem is me putting up a fight 

Sometimes I feel our ancestors 

Did more with less 

Some sort of measured, wild kindness 

Child without her mother during day

Is rewarded at night by long, quiet 

Poem prayer 

With a silent demand

Tired poem in hand

For there to be an answer to a question 

For a full and whole digestion 

I need to understand the past

     Fast 

Sweet, wild kindness

Did our ancestors do more with less? 

Answer it 

Please

CONFESS 

(ease my distress) 

So, I hold the the world to its word 

All stirred and blurred

And even if I’m unheard 

I’ll fall into the wild 

For, or 

Because of,

My child 

This poem was written at 2 a.m. by a dear friend of Shy City House who is experiencing the challenges of balancing their career and life as a new mother.