A Mother's Intuition Poem by Arthur H Rowley

My mother told me
we are all born in a way this world does not want us
ugly
and screaming
she was in labour with me for four days
says that was the first time she thought I might not be suited to this world
she has been batting back and forth between this idea and blind
maternal hope ever since
never shaking the knowledge that even prenatally I had a proclivity towards hurting those who loved me

when I brought her a stick
sheered of all its bark
she told me how she recognised the scent
of something brought here against its will
said my bedroom looked as though my mind has been splattered across the walls
I thought how it almost had
but hindsight is the most biased way to remember
so I forgive myself in a way she cannot

but there are times to come that may be darker than these
and there is still a world out there that people's such as I may not be suited for

so sit
stir your tea with a 4B pencil
soak up as much graphite as you can
do everything in the name of future poems
make it all a funny story to tell your mother when you get home
play crackling records
smile at the ceiling
tell each pressed page of your notebook
how your love them
for their ability to cradle your curling tales
soak up your inked secrets
and hold on to them until you're ready to read your life back
learn the story by heart
know it to be no more than a fairytale
to tell your mother as she drifts off to sleep

and when you see her eyelids flickering as she dreams
do not wake her
she is at last in a world we are suited for.