You’ve really taken over,
Haven’t you?
My heart, my mind.
Every waking moment
Is dedicated to you
And often I dream of you.
I can’t write.
I can’t work.
My creativity has ground to a halt.
I feel angry about that, sometimes,
But never angry at you.
We call you our miracles.
Our looming, terrifying miracles.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
I feel like I shouldn’t be conflicted–
But I am.
You’re mommy’s little world-shakers.
And when the world quakes,
You hang onto what’s solid,
And you wait for what’s to come.