In Every Form

By Madison Barclay
@barclaywords

In the mirror, I see  
a history of mothers,  
etched into my skin,  
stories carved in the lines  
around my eyes,  
a mosaic of generations  
with each woman   
holding a different truth.   

Some say motherhood  
is a garden of inherited seeds,  
blooming in the spring of one's body,  
a lineage of blossoms   
passed down,   
the way my grandmother's hands  
carried the soil of her homeland,  
the way my mother cradled  
the weight of my childhood.  

Others find it in the way  
we nurture those around us,  
a soft touch on a friend’s shoulder,  
a whispered word of comfort,  
the gentle care of a furred creature  
whose eyes hold trust like a secret.  

Love, they say, is a thread  
binding hearts,  
a web spun with delicate strength,  
catching even the smallest fallen leaf.  

But what of those who cannot grow  
the garden within?  
Whose bodies defy  
the ancient script of lineage?  
Are they any less mothers  
for the absence of the seed?  
Or do they too carry creation  
in their hearts,  
building worlds with words, with hands,  
giving life to dreams and hopes?  

Motherhood is a river, I think,  
flowing through our lives,  
shaped by love and care,  
by rocks of hardship,  
by the soil of our being.  
Not confined to a single form,  
but spread out, vast and deep,  
where each woman finds her own way  
to nurture, to grow, to mother.  

It is the act of giving,  
the strength to hold and the courage to let go,  
the heart beating in rhythm  
with the world around us,  
that makes us mothers,  
in all the ways that matter.  

---

Guest poetry written by Madison Barclay. Madison, a Canadian poet from Ottawa, captures the complexities of the human experience and psyche through her evocative verses. Her poetry spans a wide range of themes, offering readers a deep reflection on life, nature, and the emotions that connect us all. Discover more of her work on her website or follow her on X/Instagram @barclaywords.

Photo by Jennifer Floyd.