On being a mother

No one told me I would hate
the sounds of sirens- unless my children
were home, in my arms, or
in bed.  I did not know I could feel
like strangling and snuggling
at the same time, but I do,
often.  I am God, in the book
of Hosea, simultaneously loving
and hating and loving again.
When my flesh and blood take to flight,
learn new words, start sleeping in
"big boy" beds- I cheer for them
and cry within, because they are moving
away from me.
Motherhood comes in waves
of mourning.  With each step they take,
the cord is severed again and again
and again.