Masochistic Perceptions, Trials and Truths

These are my cyberfied cerebral synapses ricocheting off reality as I perceive it: thoughts, opinions, passions, rants, art and poetry...

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

For Me Ma

My name it is Gloria

And my life’s a troubled thing

My husband, he would smack me round

But I still wear his ring

Despite his infidelities, his drink

And shite and lies,

For though long ago he left me

I must consider gossiping eyes

You see, to be a single mother

In these conservative constricted days

Is not a very kindly state

And I must respect our ways

While three of my four babies

To misfortunate death I’ve lost

I can’t afford this shame you see

So I’ll conceal at any cost

Motherhood is trying

And oftentimes I don’t feel well

The resentment, depression and anxiety

In my mind and heart does swell

And when I feel I can take no more

To the point that I might crack

My son suffers the brunt of my pain

With wicked words and with a smack

Sometimes I can not control myself,

The sting in my flailing hand

It falls and falls as if on it’s own and why,

I can not understand

My self-esteem is all but gone

To a guise of dignity

That’s why I cling to my “Mrs.” Name

Though that I’ll never be

By God it’s such a torturous task

To face yet another living day

Resentment murdered all my dreams

And it’s driving my son away

My words are harsh and hurtful

Thinking not of their future price

For all the tolls that time is taking

A baby, another then thrice

And though my pride is all I have

In the only surviving one

I fear that he’ll turn out like me

Never to become someone

I push him hard in his school

Though I, myself, can’t read,

And every time I beat him blue

It’s of want for him to succeed

I know that this is all fucked up

But I’ve nowhere else left to go

It’s so hard to wake each day

And put on this pathetic show

So this is my existence

And my gracious lot

To accept the little that I have

With hopes others don’t talk

All I pray is in the end,

Some God will wait for me

To give me something beyond this bullshit

For the rest of eternity

For my name is Gloria

I’m old, and now I stay

In the house where I was raised,

My son a nation away

I pray now for forgiveness,

And still live with my shame

And still I wear my husband’s ring,

It’s band near worn away.

Edmonton, AB, Canada



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