Lost
Horrid, horrid thought;
Tiny Mother reaching forth,
Reaching always to enfold,
And in enfolding just to hold.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me, and I am you?
Looking for a glint of power.
Searching, searching, hour by hour;
Love…caring…heedless heart;
No Mother were you from the start.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and deed.
What to do? What to do?
I am me and I am you?
Broken waif, soul chafed;
Battered daughter, mother’s pride;
All that’s beautiful she must hide.
All that’s soft, all that’s warm, half formed.
Crying from want…and need;
Crying from loss and undone deed.
What can I do? What can YOU do?
I am me, and you are you?
Crushed like flower pedals in a fist,
Flung haphazardly in the mist.
Nasty, sour, bitter lost;
She was forced. We are forced.
Is all lost?
Date 10/12/2008
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2008
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