I watched as your formidable hands carved out the sides of crucifixes
creating the only hope you could crawl into.
35 matrimonious years of looking to a man you no longer know.
Clinging to the expired vision of an angel at your bedside telling you to work for your peace.
You created valleys in anxiety ridden vows.
As I grew I watched you harden
into an unmovable mountain to shape the ages of your children.
Teaching us to always wear a still face-
that to tremble is weak.
Until the cold night I watched my mountain crumble into ash.
Covering every bit of strength held in your hands,
decaying your thoughts into rubble.
You now lose yourself in every underwhelming moment
with a stony gaze, you don't know them.
Your Husband.
Your Mother.
Your Children.
Your own eyes tell you nothing,
a chasm between you and reality.
It comes in waves, eroding you.
My mountain is propped up with a holy book and a ******* cane.
Now I'm cold in my bed at night waiting for the day that you don't remember my name.
The one that you gave me.
But your eyes are still caving.
And I can’t keep you warm laying blankets to a hill side.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
I watched as your formidable hands carved out the sides of crucifixes
creating the only hope you could crawl into.
35 matrimonious years of looking to a man you no longer know.
Clinging to the expired vision of an angel at your bedside telling you to work for your peace.
You created valleys in anxiety ridden vows.
As I grew I watched you harden
into an unmovable mountain to shape the ages of your children.
Teaching us to always wear a still face-
that to tremble is weak.
Until the cold night I watched my mountain crumble into ash.
Covering every bit of strength held in your hands,
decaying your thoughts into rubble.
You now lose yourself in every underwhelming moment
with a stony gaze, you don't know them.
Your Husband.
Your Mother.
Your Children.
Your own eyes tell you nothing,
a chasm between you and reality.
It comes in waves, eroding you.
My mountain is propped up with a holy book and a ******* cane.
Now I'm cold in my bed at night waiting for the day that you don't remember my name.
The one that you gave me.
But your eyes are still caving.
And I can’t keep you warm laying blankets to a hill side.
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