She said I’m the kind of mom who

Doesn’t know what to do

In these situations.

I looked at her hard then and

Looked away at the crying baby with the

Bleeding  hand  and the sister

Who shouldn’t have to be mama too

And the other three staring up at me

And I judged, hard.

There are many things I understand

But a mama who is useless isn’t

One of them.

I wiped and bandaged and comforted

Except for her, who I could not

look at or speak to

after that declaration.

They all recovered but later,

 my head hurt

From the questions I couldn’t ask

and the answers that are impossible –  

Why would a woman work so hard

At producing so much

of what she can’t care for? 

How do you avoid learning

With such an abundance of

opportunity?  And

How does it feel to hurt but

remain untouched

 by the one who brought you

to the dance?

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