You were too young to know
the treasure of a child.
Bloated burden, unflattering.
Days of the velvet liquid,
murmurs between skins,
even the aroma of coffee
died abruptly.
Feeling unloved and ugly
is an unwanted sword,
like the seed in your womb
severing the sacred attachment.
I held on to the fragments of you
that were beautiful.
Because of your absence,
I learned to love books,
and when I wrote
I thought of the mystery of you.
Imagination attached me to you again.
Any missing pieces in me,
I filled with you.
As a full-grown woman,
I finally got to know you.
You were defeated, having lost the lushness of life.
The ugliness of your sin ripped me apart
like childbirth all over again.
Isn’t it ironic that
now you have shown up in my life again?
You are almost too much in my face,
causing me to lose balance.
I stumbled
in the tangled thickets of a prodigal mother.
I’d never know why you walked out on me.
It’s not something I need to know anymore.
Ma, I forgive you, your cruelty, selfishness, and entitlement.
I have peace knowing you are incapable of love.
They are your demons, not mine to slay.
Flicker of Thoughts 