Compare time to a mother's love
and there is no comparison. Who would
connive in refined despair ten different
ways to forget yet shake, frail and rattled,
in their bed, fall backwards into sleep
and drown in their jet bloodied dreams?
I will never say, I used to know him.
I will always admit to loving you fully,
not because you are my child, but because
you will always be my child, though you've
outgrown me by almost half a foot and sometimes
I stammer when I look at you.
You have, after all, grown up, past childhood
and a mother's make-it-better kiss. I, too, have
had my follies, my homesick way of dealing
with things. I know I view things from my heart
and not my reason. And so, for that reason,
you can roll your eyes and slam every door
but you can not, you absolutely may not
harm yourself in front of my eyes. I forbid it.
Poetry by Lisa Zaran
Read 944 times
Written on 2011-01-06 at 22:19
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