Our first addiction is to Mother’s milk,
a flow that, every Mother knows, must cease.
And never is the weaning smooth as silk,
and ever does the child fear his release.
As one is being weaned from perfect meals,
consuming as we are, ourselves, consumed
we learn, to some degree, how dying feels
and realize that paradise is doomed.
Our Mother lost we need to love again
and often search, in vain, for a reflection
of Mother’s love. We choose a mate and then
we imitate the ultimate connection,
The “I-am-you-are-me-is-she-is-we”,
I am the milk, the Mother’s milk is me.