from Mary Kelly's Post-Partum Document
Little cries emanate from the back room. Whimpers really. Cries that will mostly likely soon subside. It's that time of night. She wakes, she frets, she falls back asleep. The house is again quiet.
I am a mama now. And like most, I have little time to myself. Little time to pause and think any thoughts not related to the daily chores of tending to.
My child has carved her letters into my heart. Every day she burrows her way deeper and deeper and I have less and less space for my own breadth. And this is a good thing. This love. It doesn't belong to me any more. I am hers.
She stirs, she cries. The night is still again. I wait. I wait. We are still again.
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