I see you, mama, taking in too much. Holding space for so many. Hoping that, like water, it will roll off of you. There’s a certain look around your eyes; a weariness that overcasts the usual sparkle. Let it.
Rest. Mulch that over. Stand in the glow of the moon. Let the sky take it. Let the ocean have it. Let the river carry it away. Set it on the ground. Let the grass and dirt hold it. Lighten your load, if even for one cool minute.
All the love you give. All the sadness you cradle. All the angers that rip at your seams. It’s a lot, mama. I see you.