I’m mad at you God.
I wanted it all to be perfect
A loving husband and good kids
That did what I expected
Now look at what You’ve done!
Did I not follow where You led?
Did I not listen?
What happened to the plans
That I concocted?
What are You doing?
It hurts to be a mother
With all my parent wishes.
I’ve tried to do Your will
I’ve tried to teach them
How can they banish You ?
I’ve still no answers
To my anguished pleas
When will they see?
When will they hear?
God please answer me!
I look up for Your face
Can’t see for tears
Feel nothing now but love
In my pain, You take me in Your arms
And say I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
Why do you get so sentimental on the one day of the year honoring mothers?
Do you think somehow one day will compensate for all the times when in frustration
I have asked for help and been ignored?
Is this a day to scrub clean the slate of misdemeanors?
To right the list of everything gone wrong?
I am a mother and feel abused by good intentions to glorify my role by shallow means.
You ask me what I would like to have, to do, on this one day
And quietly I say We could go out for dinner.”
When all I want could not in a million dinners
Not in a million days be satisfied.
My child by birth or melded to my heart by choice, look deep into my eyes.
I want you to enjoy all life’s best things, accomplish where I’ve failed, sing where I’ve cried.
I’d have you search what heaven alone can give.
Your gift most precious to me’d be
A life of faith that’s lived in joy for God.
Everything I really wish for seems,
All my unspoken dreams,
So out of reach.
My attitude so self absorbed
Grace hardest to achieve.
Sleepless, I sit awake at night.
Machining words in space.
If I confess, then I must change
And what if I cannot?
Sometimes I hate the ones I love
And tottering on the brink
Slash with words irretrievable
Once they are spoken.
O Great God my Father!
In love you promised me
Redeem, Please make me yours again.
And set me free.
We have the best climbing tree in all the town.
Under its shade and in its branches
Things go on that only it could tell.
And insobriety takes a rest.
Do they think you don’t know, O ancient wood
And store it up within
Veins among pith and resin?
You watch silent
That you report to the Almighty.
It is harder to write of joy
But one without the other
To be filled with irrepressible
Is a pleasure known only
So do not strive too hard
It comes unfettered
It was a Holy moment,
The breaking of the bread
The drinking of the wine
The passing of the peace
In reverent liturgy.
It was a Holy moment
It is finished”
Taking the torture for me
My heart so hard.
Doing it anyway.
The moment waits. Auspicious,
In quiet pursuit, wanting,
Or unable, by my wooden head,
To bring the mystery to bear
As it should on my soul.
It circles the edge of my soul
Trying to enter
To bring reason and order
To the confusing themes
Of everyday life.
But I miss
Grasping the pierced hands.
Clinging to my own marred
Dreams of ambition.
Slipping t’wards oblivion.
So I remain, holding
My own fate in my deformed claws
Grasping at straws while
Ever so patiently waits.
Hunger hardly tells the half of it.
Famined is more like it.
The deep pit of the belly reels.
The very inner self cries for food.
Skin and sinews left on bones.
Bellies round and full of nothing.
Eyes black in their sunken sockets.
Flies circle waiting for their prey.
A mother keens for the child
Suckling at her shriveled breast.
Knowing the end is soon
Too soon for her first and last born.
God take them quickly
Let them drink from your life giving stream
Feast them at your table.
While we, satiated, rot in our own garbage.