How can I
Be the source
Of all you need,
Little one,
And still be
The source
Of all I need?
How can I
Provide the
Safety,
Security,
Stability,
Society Says
You need;
And
How do I fulfil
And meet
Those needs;
And
How do we
Make fun,
Be present,
Enjoy this relationship,
Mother-daughter,
Creating,
Laughing;
And
How do I cultivate
And nurture
Patience,
Tolerance,
Compassion,
Understanding
When
Resources
And support
And time
And money
And full bellies
And friends
And sleep
Are sparse,
Thin,
Elusive,
Exhausted;
And
How am I
Supposed to
“Earn a living”
(Like life is to be earned);
And
Parent,
Alone,
Simultaneously;
And
How do I
Discover
Who I am
Becoming;
And
How do we
Fit ourselves
Into a box
I never belonged in?
Self Care is
Critical.
But
How do I
Give
To Myself
Without
Losing the time
We collectively need
To do this thing called
Life?
Lily Ayre, 7th August 2016, updated 2nd September 2016. Poem inspired by summer holiday struggles.
I recommend Kelly Diels and Brigid Schulte’s writings on why time is a feminist issue. Because it fucking is.
