Nothing Is Perfect (May 12, 2016)

I don't write

To crucify

The institution

Of motherhood.

Rather

Am dealing

With the hurt

And pain.

From

One misdirected

Woman.

For whom

The world identifies

As my birth mother.

Never realizing

Or believing

Some women

Aren't meant

To become mothers.

Unlike

Driving a car

That requires

One to earn

A license.

Child rearing

Doesn't.

Instead

One is thrown

Into shark infested waters

Without any safety measures

And expected

To thrive.

Most do

For those

Who don't

The children suffer.

As I did

With my mom.

When

My younger brother

Went ballistic

In the summer of 1985.

Not sure.

Whether

It was pride

Or guilt.

In failing

With us.

That kept her

For reaching out

To the community

And family

For help.

 

Only hindsight

Knows.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: A reflective thought, on yesterday's poem, The Caged Bird, that I wrote. Yes, I retain a lot of anger and hostility, towards my mom, for the things that she did to me, over the years, which has harmed me, in my development, as a person, and her child. And yet, I wonder, how things would have turned out, had someone intervened, and took my brother out, and helped him, to deal with his own issues, which he took out, on the rest of the family.