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Poem

I hugged my sons today between the chaos and play. 
They normally rush through the everyday hugs 
(the quick pat, while they pull away, kind of hugs),  
but I cried today, heard about too many sons dying today.
An everyday hug is not what this mother’s heart needs on a day like today. 

I rarely think of my own needs in my day-to-day life, 
but in these hours, as my world orbits far away from other worlds,
I need to embrace my boys, fully and completely curl
them around me for all the moms that will never again 
hold their sons with an outpouring of maternal abandon.  
I need to take my boys in my arms, snuggle them close, 
feel their youthful glow within their wise, yet tender, souls.
I need to touch the rough-and-tumble scrapes and softness 
of their boyish skin nestled in my arms and smell the lingering 
sweet of shampoo as their hair brushes against my cheek.

I remember how I felt an indescribable, unconditional love 
when they were born, the bond of mother and child 
that even death cannot break.
I need to hold them again like they were babies wrapped in my arms, 
to reach that part of them that is a part of me. 
If I can, I will hold onto them a little longer for all the grieving mothers,  
before they slowly start to pull away, asking, “Mom, can I go play?” 
  

Written 6/6/20 for Craig Cornish's
Hug Contest

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