A Mother’s Poem

I wrote a poem the other day with the purpose to describe some of the thoughts and feelings that run deep within a mother’s heart.

I know that poems aren’t everyone’s thing, however, I strongly believe that certain emotions can not be fully expressed in an article format, but only caught in glimpses of time. So I used snapshots of everyday life in each stanza to help capture the full essence of what it is to be a Mother.

A Mothers Poem

Deepest dreams come true, the best moments of life! Tiny hands reaching, stroking, hugging; my heart is melting! Pulling, grabbing, pinching; okay, now leave me alone!

Panic sets in. Where is he? Have my worst fears come true? Am I the horrible mother they think I am? There, he sits outside playing safe and sound. One quick glance calms the fears but, for just one more moment.

Heart swelling, that’s MY little girl. Pretty, smart and strong. Where did that confidence come from, or those lovely full lips? But those deep blue eyes are all mine.

Sit down for a breath and work stacks up like Jenga blocks, just waiting to come crashing down on my head. Just one more moment, just another second. Outside, the kitten just lies still while the dog devours it, until I knock on the window and save the poor soul. I guess I got up.

That time you came and told me that my thighs jiggled when I ran and I laughed so hard with you, but when you left, I cried. They were once firm like yours.

Just over this wave, is another one really coming up so fast? Waiting for the calm in the storm. Another question I can’t answer, another job I won’t do. But no one else does it either, so I guess I will.

When I dumped a full bucket over you and the shock on your wet face made me laugh. Squealing, because you smiled with revenge. A small glimpse in time but forever burnt into my memory. See, Mommy can have fun too.

Am I in this alone? Sometimes. Me, and a billion others. On an island of kids. Make those smoke signals high, no one will come. Find help for yourself. If you have any idea where to start looking for it.

The girl sings softly as she wanders alone, two boys dig in the mud together, each with a stick, searching for some hidden treasures that are lost to the rest of the world. The littlest one lovingly pets that poor kitten the wrong way. And I take it all in like a breath of fresh air. The best day.

No! You ruined it! It can never be replaced! Your sticky hands, marking it forever with a piece of you. The regret isn’t the tiny fingerprints but the way your eyes dropped down when I yelled. I’m so sorry.

Is it the end of the day, or the beginning of the night? Really can’t tell anymore. What is sleep? The lights are on and off like a summer lightening storm, while the rest of the world sleeps in peace.

Peace. When the work is done, when they lie down still. Peace. When the nightmares fade and the light in the bathroom glows softly, just in case.

Sleep soft, sweet angels, Mama loves you with every aching breath.

Guilty as Charged

The Accuser paces in front of the room, he clears his throat, his opponent will now face his doom!

“Your Honour,” he begins his eloquent speech, “I’m here because the man sitting before you is guilty. I’ll prove it, it’s true! He’s unfit to live, if only you knew! His face shows his guilt, though his mouth’s full of lies, his thoughts are impure; his life you’d despise! Deep in his heart there are anger and malice within: He complains about work, so ungrateful he is! He talks behind backs, he even yells at his kids! He’s lazy and gluttonous, you can see by his size. He is greedy and hoards his wealth, just look at all he buys! He is full of deceit, and his motives are selfish within! I wonder if he has even one thought that’s not linked to sin. Yes, he does do some good, but clearly those motives are laced with pride, not humility, it’s just to keep people on his side! Even his good acts are filthy and grim! What else is there to say? He should be ripped apart, limb by limb!!!”

“Is this true?” asks the Judge, looking at the Accused. The old man’s eyes stare hard at the floor, never daring to lift, gives a slight nod and no more. He doesn’t dare say a word! His shoulders, they sag with the weight of  the world. His face full of pain, his soul sad and withdrawn. He stands before the judge, guilty as charged.

The Judge raises his gavel high up in the air, “I sentence this man to life put away. He’s hopeless, he’s lost…locked up he will stay…” But before the order is finished, a loud cry is heard!

“Please wait Your Honour! Let me say a word!”

The Judge looks up, surprised: “Who dares defend this man, after all he has done? You dare represent him…this dark, filthy one?”

A Man with Authority steps out from the back. As they see who he is, the people all gasp! Surely this man wouldn’t defend! He’s so highly respected, the Man coming forth, this Man – he was faultless! Set apart! Right from birth! The Man known as Defender, not a mistake to his name! Surely he shouldn’t take sides with this man put to shame.

The Defender slowly walks to the front and lovingly speaks, “This man,” he begins, “is not at all like you speak.”

Then he turns on the slideshow of the pieces He saw, the broken man weeping and reaching for God. The heart always soft to do what he was told, his hands helping the sick…he cared for the old! Slide after slide was shown of the man giving his wealth, when not a single soul saw, of him telling the truth, though it cost him his job! He showed the man blessing those who had cursed, he showed this man praying for those who had treated him the worst!

“But wait!” yelled the Accuser! “What about those things I have said, they can’t be denied! That old man’s good as dead!”

The Defender spoke up, “You know they are true as well as I, but you also know well for those sins I have died! I paid for them fully, how dare you bring up those moments again! My blood was poured out, I made him new right there and THEN! This new man you see, is not who you accused. This poor man, he is mine and he must be let loose!”

The Judge thoughtfully nodded, then softly he spoke: “Then the price has been paid, let him go. Set him free!”

The old man, once accused jumped up, shouting with glee! For he deserved death, but the Defender paid the fee!

Every Small Voice

I feel it’s best to tell the tale of how this page got it’s name,

My mind it searched for something different, but all things sounded the same.

There seems to be nothing new anymore,

every songs been sung, every written word.

We’ve seen it all, it’s all been read,

there’s nothing that hasn’t already been said.

Yet I’m still one tiny life amoung them all,

my voice, it matters, though ever so small.

The most damaging voice is not the loudest to speak,

Nor those who shout from the mountain peak,

Nor those in the spotlight so strong and bold,

Nor those who spew hatred, hearts ever so cold,

Nor those who twist the truth into lies,

and turn a pure person into an object to despise,

It’s not those words spoken directly to kill,

nor is it the noise of those with stubborn will.

The most damaging voice is those who don’t speak at all,

Those who know what is right, but refuse to recall.

Those who withhold the good from those who deserve it,

who see the truth, but refuse to preserve it.

Those who see a wrong done, only to turn away,

Never standing up to evil, but walking the other way.

Those who witness a bully hurting their peer,

but turning aside and trembling in fear.

For there’s little harm just one person can do,

But those who stop them are far too few.

And the less evil’s resisted the larger it grows,

until we think the land is full of darkened foes.

But if every small voice would stand up and call out,

The earth would but shatter from such a loud shout.

For each person alive must make the choice,

To just stay silent or to use their small voice.