I am bone weary and exhausted
my bruised and mutilated spirit
feels as if it's been drug behind a truck
instead of spending a day with my son.
Your lies have sliced through
the last threads of my denial.
My shoulders sink down in defeat
and my warrior spirit hangs in defeat
As rising panic tightens
its death grip on my throat,
I am rendered mute
and realize I must give up the war.
There are no words
that can make this right.
My warrior days done,
I sheath my sword,
while my tears turn to salt
as I empty my pockets
of saturated tissues.
I cannot protect you,
your are a grown man now.
And if I must give you over
to the black tar of your life,
then I must find a place
where I can pretend
to be numb
to the pain
of watching you die.
And I wonder,
how does a mother do that?
~~
Adding your comment:
this is powerful!