Three sons came wondrously into our lives.
Named, welcomed, cradled and loved.
Born to two people equal in mystery.
Born out of prayer, desire and good will.
Our roles carved out clearly, new mother and father
Divided by dictates of wage earning and care.
We accepted directions designed by the culture.
How can we go wrong if we follow the past?
You played the game with your business and briefcase,
I toiled the ancient time-honored task, mom.
It became clear to me whose was the real work.
How can mere money surpass mother’s milk?
My anger stoked tension and pulled us apart.
All that the mystery sought to unite
Clashed in unfolding lives shaped by old values.
And down crashed the cradle, the babies and all.
How can the mystery tell us a new tale?
Where can we start over to patch up the past
Begin a new tapestry strong in its weaving,
Healing, forgiving, creating in love?
poetrybyheart.me 
Such deep feelings. Your words speak to many couples from that era. I am sending you a hug! ♡
Colleen, Thanks for your comment and most of all for the hug. ❤
Wow! Great poem Vivachange! Expectations, tensions, and all! Great job!
Thanks, Cyril. I value your comment.
Great poem. Sadly, today, many women play the dual role of “homemaker” and “wage earner.” Some, because the male is absent from the home. Or, in some cases, the male is still present but maintains the archaic belief that housework is women’s work.
Thanks. Yes, sad things are not much different now. My sister was a single parent and it was rough.
Powerful true words. Those were the days, weren’t they? Thank you. 🐞
Thanks. They were pretty amazing looking back.
A tanka comment
words you write
a woman’s plight should be shared
any man
worth his weight should tell you
emancipation can work
I’m proud of my sons who are emancipated. I think you are a man worth your weight. ❤