Ther Vine Keeper

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Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Mommy, Mommy

Mommy, Mommy

“Mommy, Mommy,
what am i supposed to do now ?”
these were the words
of my 19 year old daughter
as she threw her body
across that
of her Mother’s lifeless form
i the Father
had no words
for i have never heard
such anguish before
i was helpless
and i offered no viable contest
to her pain
on one hand
i was happy
the suffering was over
but a new path
of emotional discordance
opened up before us all
damn that cancer
she was but a shadow
of the woman she used to be
but yet
she was now free
while we became the enslaved
haunted by the memories
of laughter
and children being born
there were eight of them
and now the scorn of life
has stolen their rife of joy
why did this have to be
what had the children done
to deserve this
excise-ment of their bliss
no more would they kiss
save in their dreams
the lips of Mother
from nineteen
down to four
and none of them know
what death is for
God did not explain
their pain
and i had no words
just tears
and queer little questions
like . . .
“what the fuck”
God . . .
brought this kind of luck
God . . .
to the lives of my children
God . . .
and me
God . . .
for all i still hear
God . . .
wafting through the air
God . . .
of my Soul . . . is
“Mommy, Mommy,
what am i supposed to do now ?”
Mommy, Mommy

(c) 21 November 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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