a time i was sad

not even the people i live with
ask me what i’m up to
or how I’m going
what i did today
the answer
“i was lost in being Mother today”
so unremarkable it’s no longer worth
even asking
i clench my teeth at night
holding back all the bits
of me that want to be expressed
but don’t have time
between washing clothes and
sweeping up little piles
of yesterday’s dinner
but if someone did ask
how are you
it might start to trickle out
that some days i am lonely
that i still think of my birth, my scar, my failures
that i have dreams and I’m sometimes scared to follow them
or that i wonder if I’m on the right track
if I’m really an artist at all
mother, a special type of invisible
supporting and providing and holding space
fade into the background