Poem © 2013 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
Thank you for spinning me into self-doubt
your perfectionism a magnifying mirror
of my own.
My creations rendered ugly by your measure
words only a mother could love
the baby spanked with your measuring stick
before it draws its first independent breath.
I’m grateful for the preview
of the moments that will terrify me
when my uniqueness confronts others
more concerned with form than substance.
I’m better prepared.
I stood up to you.
Self-doubt will not be
the boss of me.
My child will go out into the world
find its own way
make its unique contribution
and if it wears purple spiked hair
with a gray flannel suit
self-expression and reverence for custom
will meet in an explosive synergy
a blast that leaves in its rubble
the best of all worlds
an explosion that might just change forever
the one where we used to (almost) live.
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