Letters to the children I'll never have

 

Maternal wisdom

I do not come bearing gifts, nor do I offer a bosom for you to rest your defeated head upon as you sulk about your misfortunes. I am both your...
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When My Daughter Cries

I see the pain behind her eyes, with an avalanche of tears held back by an empty smile. Wandering the ruins of a psyche once owned by the “it's okays...
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My Husband's Son

He holds his father’s restored innocence that hibernated from years of masculine duty and societal expectation. He will teach his son the discipline...
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Oh, How Art Thy Mother’s Advice

Mama told me to court a doctor, for he could heal a broken heart and soothe the agonizing cracks brought on by the suitors that broke down fragile...

Where art thy Foe?

Your foes are beings that feed from your naivety and need for comfort leaving you to slave away your virtues for a grain of rice. Let your heart not...