A Mother’s Day Poem by Adrienne Rich

I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove

warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your hand

because life is short and you too are thirsty.

I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language

guessing at some words while others keep you reading

and I want to know which words they are.

I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn

                between bitterness and hope

turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.

I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else

  left to read

there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

         –Adrienne Rich

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