MOTHER IN CONFUSION
You were the child I wanted to have with you.
You wanted me to be your mother,
to love you with mercy and compassion.
You crawled back into my womb
until you found another, younger,
until you reconciled with Chanah
who birthed, then sent away her son.
When I began to sift through your mess
spilled out on my floor, the mess
you were hiding from your new oasis,
when I asked: Why do you stay out
late nights if indeed your body is in pain?
You sneered: Well, what would I do here,
have you feed me chicken stew?
What do you want from me?
One word. Or three.
One moment of sincerity.
One act of truth, of friendship.
My therapist says every man
needs to kill his mother at some point.
My heart has stopped rejoicing,
my body is in rage and fury,
my womb is silent and confused.
Julia Knobloch is a journalist and translator turned project manager and administrator. Before moving to New York from Berlin, she worked 10+ years as a writer and producer for TV documentaries and radio features. Her essays and reportage have been published in print and online publications in Germany, Argentina, and the US (openDemocracy, Brooklyn Rail, Reality Sandwich). She occasionally blogs for ReformJudaism.org, and she recently was awarded the Poem of the Year 2016 prize from Brooklyn Poets for her poem Daylight Saving Time. Her poems have been published in or accepted by Green Mountains Review, Yes, Poetry Magazine, in between hangovers, poetic diversity, ReformJudaism.org and are featured on Brooklyn Poets’ social media outlets.