[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Before we became a mothers, we never really understood true love, the deep, often terrifying love that appeared the first moment we laid eyes on you. Our hearts would never be the same.
We soon knew joy, but we also experienced staggering fear. The world is a scary place. We wanted to protect you from the trolls that lurked under every bridge, but quickly learned we couldn’t smash every monster, and it broke our mother hearts bit by bit.
It is our fate, motherhood. We were meant to hold your hands and sing you songs and rock you to sleep. We were meant to worry and fret when you stepped out into the world. We were meant to love you.
The secret of motherhood isn’t really a secret. We do the best we can. We falter, doubt, and make missteps, but our hearts are full of you, our babies.
We carry your hearts in our hearts. It is “the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life.” Our mother love is a big, fierce, mountain of a Sequoia that survives through brush fires and hurricane winds. It flows through our bloodstream. It gurgles in our soul. It is our pulse. It is our song.
“i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”