The Night Before

The night before
General Conference,
I lie awake.
Signs are made,
clothes pressed,
but unable to sleep.
I pray,
What if no one hugs me?
A voice answers,
You have work to do.
It doesn’t matter if they hug you.
The children only need to see you.
My little ones will see
your rainbows and smile.
A queer mother
is still a mother.