Confessions of a Mother

My poem that captures the weight, honesty, and tenderness of a mother’s confessions

Confessions of a Mother

I confess I am not always gentle,
Sometimes my patience thins like worn cloth,
And my voice rises sharper than I wish.
I confess I cry when no one sees,
Grieving for the moments lost,
The childhoods I can’t rewind,
The mistakes I replay like old songs.

I confess I am proud, quietly,
When you stumble and rise,
When you love and laugh and live,
Even when I feel invisible behind the chaos.

I confess I worry endlessly,
About your heart, your safety, your dreams,
About the world carving you into shapes
You never asked to wear.
I confess I do not always know the right words,
But I try, in the small ways, to teach you love anyway.

I confess I am human,
Flesh and fear and hope all tangled together,
And still, I would give every bit of me
For your breath, your smile, your life.
And if the world never knows,
If the night swallows my whispered prayers,
I am still here—watching, waiting, loving,
Confessing in silence,
That my heart beats in your shadow,
Forever yours.