Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Rosey, Leaving

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At eighteen, she sings as if she’s been alive for centuries--a voice
filled with old sorrow and flowers,  the lost child on the twisted street,
the woman in a doorway with her hand on her brow
peering out in a season of drought. And if her song rises, you can hear the far-flung moon,
the man who turned his face away and kept on walking--I could go on.
When she was five, she’d never heard opera but woke up singing it.
I assumed then her soul had traveled places I couldn’t see before
She got to me, and now she’s leaving. When she was six she wept with rage
when a wounded bird died in her hands. Mothers are lovers and insane.
We think it will go on forever, and it will, but not like this, ever again.
This is the last day she can walk through these rooms and not be a visitor.
I want to tell her there is no way to thank her enough.
That before she came, I was racing around a dark field, looking for home.


Jane McCafferty writes fiction, poetry, and nonfiction. Her work has received an NEA, the Drue Heinz prize, two Pushcart prizes, and several Pushcart honorable mentions. She’s the co-author of a book of poems, From Milltown to Malltown, and author of four books of fiction, most recently a novel from HarperCollins called First You Try Everything. She has an essay called “Breast Feeding in Indiana” in the anthology about parenthood called BIRTH, edited by Kristin Kovacic and Lynne Barret, (University Iowa Press, 2002). She has two daughters, one in college, and one who just graduated from high school. She lives in Pittsburgh and teaches at Carnegie Mellon.


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Sigh. Gorgeous and painful.
so beautiful love it !
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