<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345456" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Child Bearers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Jean, death comes close to us all,<br>flapping its awful wings at us<br>and the gluey wings crawl up our nose.<br>Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs,<br>whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle,<br>mine pushed into gnawing a stilbestrol cancer<br>I passed on like hemophilia,<br>or yours in the seventh grade, with her spleen<br>smacked in by the balance beam.<br>And we, mothers, crumpled, and flyspotted<br>with bringing them this far<br>can do nothing now but pray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let us put your three children<br>and my two children,<br>ages ranging from eleven to twenty-one,<br>and send them in a large air net up to God,<br>with many stamps, real air mail,<br>and huge signs attached:<br>SPECIAL HANDLING.<br>DO NOT STAPLE, FOLD OR MUTILATE!<br>And perhaps He will notice<br>and pass a psalm over them<br>for keeping safe for a whole,<br>for a whole God-damned life-span.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And not even a muddled angel will<br>peek down at us in our foxhole.<br>And He will not have time<br>to send down an eyedropper of prayer for us,<br>the mothering thing of us,<br>as we drip into the soup<br>and drown<br>in the worry festering inside us,<br>lest our children<br>go so fast<br>they go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345456" data-title="The Child Bearers de Anne Sexton" data-description="Jean, death comes close to us all, flapping its awful wings at us and the gluey wings crawl up our nose. Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs, whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle, mine pushed into gnawing a stilbestrol cancer I passed ..."></div> </div> </div>

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