I wonder if I will be a good mother a mother who
fears less than fright or darkness
would allow given the hollow
road one wanders once that baby
I wonder if she’ll love me as much
as I deserve or don’t deserve
depending on who is doing the talking
or listening or dancing or walking
I wonder if she’ll want to listen
to me if my knowledge has no tricks
or trades or bits and bytes and pieces
relevant to a teenager’s struggles yet
allow me to regaze toward my
past where I might relive
and perhaps change the pain
to less pain.
I wonder if I feed her she will
grow into a tree and reach out
toward the sun without doubt.
I wonder if I hold her
hand she will let me.