I could just go away from here,
grab my passport and run away from here.
Catch a train, or plane, away from here.
Dig a tunnel under the house, come up the other side.
so I would be away from here.
But still close enough to keep an eye,
(though I’d probably have to wear a disguise).
I could leave at night, and change my name
to something that’s not set on repeat all day, everyday.
I could freeze enough meals, leave out enough clothes,
And not think about the fact that I’m leaving you alone.
I could go somewhere warm, somewhere I could relax.
Any place where my breasts and my body aren’t on tap.
I could drive so very far away from here.
I could walk anywhere that is away from here.
But don’t worry, little ones, of course I’m going to stay.
I just need a nice bath, a little space, a little time to myself today.
I know there’s no hope of forgiveness for a mother that runs away.
Commentary: This piece is a little cry of my frustrated heart when being a homeschooling mother to tiny children gets a bit too much. I've been told by so many other mothers that they've also thought of the same thing, and a lot of my poems explore the strange dichotomy many of us mothers, (especially mothers struggling with depression), navigate between loving our children more than life itself and simultaneous resenting so many parts of this modern model of motherhood that we are living. We are so often removed from our families, communities and support networks, and condemned to silence as women and mothers for fear of being judged by ourselves and those around us.