She grips his hand
as if
she’ll remove it from his body
and then
with a guttural scream
motherhood is birthed from her own
body, or waiting
terrified young
instinctually cry out
for the kind of love
only a beast of a mother
can bear
She wraps her limbs
around her babies
scraping through hours
of sleeplessness
trenches
of uncertainty
fending off fevers and disease
shielding her offspring
from the elements
and injury
sacrificing herself
to absorb their pain
She opens the fridge and
ravages its insides
the pantry watches, teeth chattering
hunger gnaws at her guts
but she claws through the kitchen
scavenging for sustenance
to feed her cubs
not herself
she rips open a container
of whatever remains
and traps the heat of the fire to cook it
behind the oven door
She wears scars
from her own brawls
with depression and despair
but breaks free
from the traps
to warn her babies of
lurking predators
—fear, anxiety, self-doubt—
one flash of her sharp canines
and the wolves retreat
safeguarding innocence
a little longer
She wakes before
the warmth of the sun
ripping slumber from her body
to chase down dreams
with a club
swinging mercilessly
sweat flies from her brow
as she locks her gaze on
worth, purpose, delight
inching closer each dawn
pounding her chest
as the words pour out
She patrols
the front stoop
of the black night
defending her den
from the enemy’s schemes
shrouding her home
from sin and lies
feral prayers
pierce the darkness
the fire in her heart
burns
keeping the thief at bay
Maybe you’ve seen her
roaming the aisles
roaring on the sidelines
scaling barbed wire fences
to reach her young, her dreams
or, maybe
in the mirror
staring back with
her unruly mane
her unscathed intuition
her untamed
wild love
This poem was originally published on Coffee + Crumbs in the Summer 2025 Collection.
ROAR! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
“Inching closer each dawn” 🌅💛