Pamela Hirte

There is a fissure deep in my heart.

The distance between my sons and

I span thousands of miles.

Drawn to faraway places, careers

beckon them away from home.

Yet, I did my job and turned out

successful adult sons who are

happy and independent.

I reached my goal as mother.

 

I search for answers

and find them gift wrapped

in logic and rational thought.

Miles and miles of reasons

to feel proud of my sons.

 

Still my heart encroaches

upon my intellect.

This new way of living is

not for the soft hearted.

I miss the practice of

motherhood.

There is a fissure deep in my heart.

 

By:  Pamela D. Hirte

 

Published by: Distilled Lives