Monday, September 5, 2016


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My life will always be an unfinished story ~ a song with no refrain.
I’m a sprinter in the race, tiring before the finish line
always giving birth to something new . . . and fickle as the wind.

I’m like the Bag Lady, pushing her cart down the street
only mine is full of paper scraps ~ poems and fairytales, unfinished
memoirs and writings I’ve promised to publish . . . someday.

I’ve always found a way to excuse myself from writing a novel.
It takes too long ~ my life has too many distractions ~ I don’t live alone!
I’ve probably started at least fifteen novels, some of which turned into short
stories, most of which became my . . . poems.

But then, here’s the non-fiction part of my life, and there’s no Bag Lady to be found.
It’s Motherhood, and I couldn’t find a pushcart big enough to hold five kids!
Giving birth was the easy part.  Labor, with all its pain and fear of death
was a piece of cake compared to raising these “bright ideas” and realizing what’s true.
You can’t sprint through life when it comes to mothering a child . . . since you’ve
already signed on for a Marathon!

Joanne Cucinello © 2016

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