and talk back.
They yell and then,
when I am at wits end,
they melt into tantrums
and sulks.
I am ashamed to say,
they are merely reflections
of my worst self.
Sometimes
I get so angry
I lose control
shouting
until I am astonished
by the echoes of my voice
beating up the stairs.
My babies cower
on the landing
wide-eyed
and, for once, quiet
(meek even)
unsure of their sudden
monster-mother.
I stretch out the ache
where I stomped my feet
and swallow away a
ribbon of pain
in my throat
and after a shuddering breath
I bend sorrowfully down
to apologize.
They respond slowly -
but salve my heart
with delicate pats
and wet kisses
and enthusiastic promises
to do what I ask
immediately
next time.
And life goes on
but I am ashamed
and awed
by the gift
of their ceaseless love.
Soooo lovely and honest.
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