Born, I cried,
and growing, I cried.
Gathering the broken egg, I cried.
Making the pancakes, eating the pancakes,
cleaning up after the pancakes, I cried.
Watching you swim to the deep area, I cried.
Watching you return to the shallows, I cried.
When my husband could not love me
like I wanted, I cried.
When I could not love my husband
as he needed, I cried.
When we loved each other anyway, I cried.
And then, there was the pulling of the weeds,
which I did all morning, crying,
and the watching them return,
which I did all afternoon, crying.
Now, evening, and what am I to do
but pull the weeds again,
and let the mosquitos suck on me,
and watch the stars come out, one by one?
