To My Mother (Poetry)

If life’s been hard, I wish you a kind death —
O Mother mine, you never seemed to find
much comfort in the world — your every breath
some small complaint made bitter and unkind
by judgements that too often were so harsh
I’ve wondered what you suffered in years past.

Perhaps you were not loved — it would explain
the distance that you kept from your own child —
you did not feel my joy or share my pain —
no empathy to guide you — merely mild
attention to appearances — the look
of parenthood to prompt you clean and cook.

You did your duty, granted — none could say
I was not fed and watered, clothed and warm
and yet I can’t recall one childhood day
free from criticism — that cool scorn
you poured upon my efforts — ridicule
I’ve long-remembered hurtful, mean and cruel.

I’ve learned to love from other hearts than yours —
for you had none to give, I know that now
the fault no longer matters — those old scores
are settled — time’s long bandage helps, somehow
although I will not promise to forgive
I hope you’ll find some solace while you live.

For you are old — and age does bring regret
’though you would think it weakness to admit
that anything you did might have upset
or given grief — a life-long hypocrite
might just think back in moments caught off-guard
and doubt themselves, maybe, for acting hard.

I won’t be there beside you when you die
too much has passed between us that has split
the ties of family — and so goodbye —
I’ll think of you as gone — these lines are writ
as closing ones — this final truth will stand
unchanging in whatever death you’ve planned.