The Mother

“She leans against the porch railing; body tired, shoulders slumped. Her frame rocks soundlessly with miniscule motions, absentmindedly rocking the baby now asleep with limbs flung across her pillow. With no room left to plunge her heavy head into the pillowy sea of comfort, she rubs her sore neck and stares up. Stars, thick and heavy, droop from the black abyss above while a sudden breeze slurrs the sticky night air. Lifting sweaty locks and cooling sleeping necks.
She has come to love the night; soft darkness wrapped in quiet, all hours now familiar and friendly. Coughs and cries bringing her to her feet, feet that swiftly navigate doorjambs and scattered boxes…singing and rocking, and rocking some more. Tiny bodies brought into the world through pain, longing, and love. Tiny souls being cared for by unending sacrifice and long days of longing…for the other side of this. But this…this night. What a night. She closes her eyes and is serenaded by the night birds who have written lullabies just for her.”
-Clara J. Teixeira