Monday, April 12, 2010

The Brillant Winter Sun was as Bright as my Mother's Eyes and as Frigid as her Heart

Mother of mine that I adored
Love for me you've not
As a lad to cope, I turned within
As idly by you sat

No permission granted
No request fulfilled
You brought me here upon your whim
for a purpose I know not still

The salty taste of my own blood
From mother's backhand slap
A vicious word to a tender heart
While cuddled in her loving lap

I love you most she whispered sweetly
For it's you that's most like me
A blacker phrase was never heard
With a stinging strap my love assured

She laid me down to nightly sleep
The nightmares came, black and deep
Is it night or is it day?
Is this a dream? Who's to say?

Breeched at birth? I pained her greatly?
A debt she must repay?
If pain and sorrow has a name
My mother's name you say...

3 comments:

Alice in Wonderland said...

Oh Pat, this is so moving that I'm filling up!
I just can't imagine the horrors that you were out through. You just cannot blame a babe for all the troubles that she brought on herself.
Thoughts are with you sweetie.
Big hugs!

Pat Tillett said...

thanks Alice!

divsi said...

Beautiful ! and extremely touching! :)

Loved it!