POSTPARTUM
BY:
TINIKA CUDJOE

A mother’s love is greater than any other.
So why do I feel so distant from my own creation?
Where was the love during this pregnancy?
Where is the love now?
Why do you feel so far, yet your right here in my arms?
I’m torn because I want to love you because you’re my own.
Yet, I see you as the enemy from a painful sword.
Cut me slowly and taken out even slower.
Wound hasn’t healed, just feels deeper.
Might as well call it hell.
Its numb, cold, painful, scary, I feel death calling, but how so?
You did nothing!
I felt this way before you were born.
Am I wrong?
This is scary, if this is what a mother’s love supposed to be.
Death crossed my mind with you and me.
You don’t need to be birth into my pain.
I should save you from this world and let you stay inside because once your out and living, this world will have you broken.
How can I prepare you, when I failed to save myself?
Now your pain and your cries are like a painful reminder.
Your cries are my fault because you’re hurting because of me, why did I birth you?
Why wouldn’t you shut up?
Please shut up I can’t take it.
I’m in pain already; I can’t handle yours too!
Please stop, how can I help you?
Now I can’t take it.
I’m not sleeping and you’re still crying.
I break and hurt you with words and pain.
I’m sorry; this is a mother’s pain.
Who can I turn to?
I don’t feel the same.
Something is wrong; I need someone to come take this pain.
Where did I go?
This is not I.
I’m loving and gentle, but I don’t feel the same.
In the mirror it’s me.
From head to toe, I see all of me.
So why do I feel so different?
I feel myself slowly dying and someone new appearing.
She’s cruel, short tempered, and already dying.