Experience the plight of the divine feminine in this slice of life poem about the motherhood of Christmas.
The kitchen felt more frozen than the ice on the window. The fire wasn’t catching. The mother of the house gathered more kindling. She said a prayer that there was enough for everyone’s breakfast.
The kitchen felt cold, but at least the wind was kept out. The gas stove lit quickly. The mother of the house gathered her basket to visit her chickens. She said a prayer that there was enough for everyone’s breakfast.
The kitchen was warm, but the tile floor was still chilly. She never questioned if her electric stove would work. The mother of the house opened her refrigerator and reached for ingredients. She said a prayer that there was enough for everyone’s breakfast.
The days are getting colder and shorter. She spent the summer knitting hats and gloves, darning socks, crafting special outfits for winter holidays. Each stitch was sewn with love. She gave her loved ones warmth in the wool. She said a prayer that they would last through spring.
The lamps burn longer to account for the seasons. She spent the summer browsing mail-order catalogs, painstakingly weighing the value of items in her one big annual order. She makes everything else by hand. She gave her loved ones warmth in the cloth. She said a prayer that they would last through spring.
The forecast changes, but the inside temps stay a calm 70 degrees. She spent the summer enjoying her family, keeping a keen eye on trends for the upcoming season. She curates everyone’s outfits. She gave her loved ones warmth in their wardrobe. She said a prayer that they would last through spring.
Christmas arrives, and so do three dozen extended family members. The ranch is packed with people. She attends to all of them. She says a prayer that they enjoy their gifts and the feast she prepared for them.
Christmas arrives, and so do carolers, candy canes and a great uncle dressed as Santa Clause. Her family estate is packed with people. She attends to all of them. She says a prayer that they enjoy their gifts and the feast she prepared for them.
Christmas arrives, and so do presents, family, friends and food. Her home is packed with people. She attends to all of them. She says a prayer that they enjoy their gifts and the feast she prepared for them.
It is New Year’s. Everyone is asleep, the hour is long past midnight. She steps outside, wrapped in the warmth of her year. Gazing at the stars, she says a prayer that hopes she’s good enough, and to be better next year.
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