My heart is destroyed, too heavy to be lifted.
I should have kissed you every day when
you were little. Should have hugged you more.
If only I’d spent more time with you to teach
you that you were worthy, and, in turn, taught
you to treat others as worthy. We could’ve
fished, skated, played games and sports, cooked
together, laughed and cried. Instead, I was
usually “busy” trying to acquire material things
for you, for myself, and for the rest of the family.
Busy working we call it. Too busy to attend the
emotional and psychological needs
of you, my offspring growing up, my own flesh
and blood. As a result, the pain in my heart,
what’s left of it, is often unbearable. It is a bitter
and I fear permanent pain. Now you are in
trouble. Deep trouble with the police. With
society. With God, even. I know you’ll never
forgive me. I suspect I wouldn’t either if I were in
your shoes. Still, I’m not going to forget you. I’m
not going to write you off, my child. I know I’ll
spend the rest of my life trying feebly to make
amends. You can approve or disapprove my
attempts. They won’t be much. They won’t be
any solution for you. But at least they’ll be
something. Something is better than nothing. And
God help us both.
(Note to readers: This piece of writing, for me, is fiction. Fortunately. However, there are many parents, whether together or single, for whom it is not or would not be fiction.)
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In Africa where I grew up with the family, we didn't have such a problem.
Love Emile
Great heart-felt poem!
Gina
Regis
Be always safe,
Karen
Love,
Sage
Today my son, a Chiropractor, turned 36, but was too busy working for us to get together - maybe next week? CAT'S IN THE CRADLE ...
I SPENT MY LIFETIME WORKING MY BUNS OFF - sometimes night and day, sometimes two jobs, always BUSY - BUSY - BUSY! JUST TO PROVIDE.
we do reap what we sow. peace - tom.
Edwin
(((HUG)S)) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( >tears! <