A poem about being an older mother

Christy Kimmerly
Aug 19 · 2 min read
Photo by Natasha Brazil on Unsplash

Do not ask:

Are you the mother or the grandmother?

In the summer of my 41st year,

I would’ve had to be a mother at 20,

And my daughter

A mother at 16

For this nearly 5-year-old girl

To be my granddaughter.

Yes, it is possible.

I could be a grandmother,

But why assume?

Do you not know any

Older mothers of young children?

Women who started late in life,

Or like me,

Needed time to recover,

From the loss of a six-week hope

Washed away

In a cruel river of blood?

Even then,

I would’ve been a new mother

At 26.

Not 20.

Not 16.

Just because I’ve embraced

The real me — gray hair;

Face unadorned;

Refusing to believe the societal lie

That a woman’s beauty only comes

From the perfection of

A skillfully applied mask

— it does not make me less,

Does not diminish me.

For I am

A Silver Foxy Lady.

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Christy Kimmerly

Written by

Kid wrangler & non-recovering reading addict. 📚 Alliteration Admirer. Mostly living and writing in a fantasy world. 🦄🧚‍♀️

a Few Words

A few words can change lives.

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