Sharp shrieks piercing night,
terror or pain, a mother’s worst fear.
Old husband bumbling, fumbling,
but a mother is vigilant.
Rush forth, answer quick.
There is no time when they cry.
What is it, what is it?
Monster, human, or worse?
Child’s chiding tone calms the heart,
but arouses it another way.
Why so difficult, so stubborn?
Unruly and cruel, but so beloved.
Door ****** open, lights flicked on.
There it is, sight not believed.
Glint of metal, shocked face.
A mother’s worst dream not understood.
Explanations falling out, knife hidden.
Less a plea and more an excuse.
“I wasn’t going to, it’s just a joke.”
Why such japes all the time?
The other cowers, child of womb,
cries and crawls back, still so shaken.
“It’s fine, Mom. Really,”
That’s what he says.
Can’t stop, won’t stop. A mother’s fury.
Simply unacceptable, so unthinkable.
“How could you, why would you?”
Scolding stings mothers more.
Knife is relinquished, hesitating, unwilling.
More excuses, more assurances and from both.
A sibling’s honor goes before all,
even one’s comfort, even one’s life.
Father arrives, so late, still grumbling.
Too late for this sort of thing.
Oh, what is even going on.
Shut up by realization. Oh God how?
Talk on the knee while father comforts son.
Scolding, molding, pleas and questions.
But still there’s a hug, and kiss, and tears so many.
A mother’s love so resolute. Always. Always.
