When my youngest son grew up he had a car tag that read "Mama Tried."

A Mother

being the mother of two sons
is the hardest job I ever had
my first little son was born
when I was barely past childhood
I could see a universe of potential
deep in the blue seas of his eyes
when I held him for the first time
it was the closet to God I had come
tiny fingers curled around mine
that precious baby scent lingering
after I kissed his whispy curls
no instruction book came with him
what was I going to do with this
human I was now responsible for?


the second son, so tiny, so sick
was I going to lose him this early?
his blue eyes melted me with love
and the instinct to protect him
he survived,was always my happy boy
cooing and singing beneath the trees
on his blanket on the summer grass
later joking and making me laugh
the one most like me, a soulmate
I still miss those deep conversations
we would have, all night sometimes,
when he'd come home late from a date
was I doing right by them? I tried


too soon men with bearded faces
children of their own and such sad
broken relationships, I grieved too
and still wanted to take the pain away
but these were no scratched knees
I could fix with a kiss and a popcicle
had I really been a good enough mother?
would the things I taught them prevail?
I was determined not to be controlling
did I hold the reigns too loosely?
I prayed they would grow up with worth
now they are good men who will leave
honest legacies of love and friendship
a mother's influence remains after she's gone