To know them.

A poem and a print for the Mothers.

In a scribbled note to myself, during a time when motherhood felt immeasurably vast, my capacity stretched beyond comfort, I wrote down the simplest truth I could grasp to behave as a little lantern in the largeness of it all—

“To know them”.

Those three words have become my returning point, a humble reminder to strip away the noise of advice and the pressure to get it all right. At the end of every day—after all the recipes tried, the words of encouragement offered, and the moments both messy and tender—I hope my daughters feel known by me (and loved in that knowing).

It all feels a little simpler when everything comes back to this—

To Know Them.

In honour of Mother’s Day, I have made this poem available via my art library. Printed on archival paper, with option for bespoke Italian framing. It’s a small offering to acknowledge the daily stretching and courage of mothering.

If you’d like to share it with someone you admire—or hold it for yourself—you can find the print here:

When writing the piece almost three years ago, I drew inspiration from the notion that the heart grows when it lives “on the outside of the body,” a vivid way to describe how my love for them lives beyond my own skin. The lines map the dance of their small lives—the way they spin into the world with fearless curiosity, how each discovery echoes back into the chambers of my own heart.

Rather than aim for perfection, I set out to honour the willingness at the core of being a mother: the ongoing learning, the humility in not knowing, and the deep hope that, above all, I might be present in the way they need me most.

This piece is both confession and vow—a testament to a heart that opens wider each day in the service of its own.

Below is the full piece for your reading purpose.

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To Know Them.

I have mostly felt out of body
in large and vast arrays
when I think of me as mother.

I’m yet prepared, still—
praying love into all the gaps,
often,
because there are so many.

I’m learning constantly here
how little I know,
but how largely
the heart
can love.

And I heard once that the heart
physically expands when it lives—physically
on the outside of the body.

And it’s true.

With its little legs leaping and spinning
alive & awake outside us—
I witness the disposition
of my very own heart,
with its very own heart,
and it’s of other worlds.

And when I break it all down,
it’s knowing them
that my heart aches for.

I really just hope
to be the mum they need,
and not in a perfect way,
but in an utterly willing way—
to know them.

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With Love (and caught flowers)

xo

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