She goes by many names,
like the devil…
‘she, her, woman,
MOTHER.

No one else in this unruly world
can wound and shred me
to the very bone…
not like her,
never like her.

She never understood me,
never really cared to, not at all,
though she’ll swear otherwise,
but,
both I and those that know me
know that she doesn’t ‘get me’
AT ALL.

Don’t tell HER that though,
or even THINK about
contradicting or challenging
her word.

Her word is scripture!

I’ve also gone by various names,
names that spilled so easily
from her wicked tongue…
‘loser, quitter,
pathetic, too fragile,
bad attitude,
mentally ill…for no
good reason
(I was just BORN crazy,
not her fault…never).

More often than not
her conversations
(or rather, monologues)
with me (AT me)
consist of pointing out
my every wrong
(in her superior opinion).

My greatest crime?
NOT BEING LIKE HER,
‘matter of fact she has always
been a great lesson to me
of what NOT to be.

I am a much better mother.
I sometimes forget
(when her voice booms in my head)
yet I DO know that,
without an ounce of doubt.

I can tell, when my boys look at me
and smile with utter adoration
in their beautiful eyes.

I can tell, when they want to
constantly hug me and remind me
how much they love me.
My best friend, all those who
truly have come to know me in
life, seem to think I’m pretty cool.

I know that too, though I
often forget
(when her voice booms in my head).

She taught me…
to fear (everything and everyone),
to rage (only on the inside…God
forbid I expressed anger or hurt).

Some have called me
BRAVE.
I never saw or understood that.
At times I still don’t.

When my firstborn died,
in my arms, before his time,
people called me ‘brave’ because
‘I took it so well’.
I didn’t. A piece of me died
with him that day.

Though I’m often terrified, to
even put one foot in front of
the other I do it every day,
for my sons.

I have always been afraid…
of most everything, most
everyone,
yet I rise each day, pushing past
the depression and fear,
swallowing the bitter tears
and I get up and do what must be done.

Isn’t that what courage is?
Doing something, even while
you tremble in your boots?

I do that very thing.

Guess that does qualify me
as being BRAVE.



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 30 Jan 15