Hereditary

By Catherine Moscatt

It’s one of those nights

The tectonic plates in my mind

Are moving again

We seem to be due 

For an earthquake

I share my fears, unburden myself

Like I had been dragging cinderblocks

Tied to my feet all day

Is it selfish

For a sea this stormy

To want a ship?

Is it selfish that someone like me

Looks forward to the day

She can hold a baby and smile, hypnotized by the

Beauty of her own children 

Someone like me

Someone uneven, a kindergartener with a  pair of 

Scissors trying to cut in a straight line

Someone erratic like a drunk driver navigating

Potholes and mailboxes

Yes someone broken, yes someone damaged, yes 

Someone struggling

But someone strong and brave and my heart 

Is full of love

Someone who will get up for late night feedings, attend

PTA meetings, help her child win the science fair

Someone who can piece together an almost perfect

Life for these children

And if they turn out like me?

If they do, I will sit up nights when the demons

Try to spew their lies

I will visit the hospital every day and bring

store bought baked goods

I will do anything to reduce any bit of

Suffering

And if they do turn out like me?

Then they will turn out strong and brave with hearts,

Full of love

Is that such a bad thing to be?