Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Pain of Motherhood

Motherhood is a blessing - a gift from God, but it is also a very difficult job - particularly for woman who are adult survivors of child abuse.

Great thoughts don't always become great reality. Often what I see in my head as being something sweet, meaningful and appropriate crumbs into a struggle, hurt feelings, offenses and never-gonna-happens.

I can not tell you how many times this scenario has repeated that past 20 years. It still never gets easy to be part of this two-step dance that is more like a tug-of-wills. A heart slashing - never what it was intended to be - occurs. This poem was birthed out of such a time as this.

Phone is ringing in my ears,
My heart pounds, message clear.
Why are people not listening,
To the words - what they mean.

I try talking to my child,
It'll be good,
I decide.
But it blows up in my face
Homemade cocktail
Burns the place.

I only longed to talk it out,
Think about, what was said,
I listened to the voice I heard
Sympathetic in my head.

It looked so easy - a child could do,
How did I blow a fuse?
Hear my heart - not my words.
I love you, gets unheard.

Mental, spirit and emote,
Thought I prayed-
Dust to clay.

God breathed in His spirit to me,
Saw the vision, on bended knee.
Clash with fragile-- crack breaking
Wearing out, bent I seem.

Still I love him deep within
Want to scream,
Here we go again.

Stop the music, let me out,
Same old games, I have no clout.

After all the grace given
Why's it hurt,
Bruised by sinning.

Just tried to speak - tell my side,
Slashed his heart, he bled alive.
Curt responses froze the frame,
Tossed like dice in a game.

Let me hold you, make it right,
Rock you to sleep,
Stroke your head.
Morning comes we'll learn the steps,
I still have hope for motherhood.

Walk by faith - not by sight,
Through the maze, It's called life.
Mercy new every day,
Don't you quit, despite the fray.

Buried, died -- before the birth,
Cyclical - in reverse.
I can not see in your soul,
All I know, is what I'm told.

White flag hanging from my door,
I surrender - ever more.
Teach me to live humbly
Repenting - casting on the sea.

When the tide turns
You'll be home,
Full of joy - on your own.
I will be here when you come,
Your forever, my precious son.

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