Relentless

My mother cried this morning after dawn's birth;
no, it wasn't the crying of tears nor the release of
stress from her umber eyes,
she was sobbing. And what had I been doing?
Pretending my face was stonework and that
the cloudy enmity outside needed me....

though it was shame I wanted etched
into heavy chests and silent screams.

I watched her hopeless struggle as she set
her focus on the wheel, and as I hid my lips
towards the window I couldn't help but see
how feeble her eyes looked.....I was scared
this had gone too far.

Forests waved by and we drove on,
passing a berry farm called Tanglewood
that made my thoughts turn for a split
second and imbibe the irony.

I kept peering at the clock below the
dashboard waiting for it to turn into a human,
be a witness and fumble around for some
solution-

to watch my back and see the cruelty
that used to sing like fidelity....

Became I'm striving to not care, but all it does
is make me less weak and immerse in more pain;
whoever said not caring is not feeling was
seriously misguided.

I don't want to become comfortable with
these pieces of secrecy.

I just want to explain.

It was never anger or disappointment
shot at that gentle woman that made me protect
and guard my speech-
it was my own failure that carved a coward.

I just want you to know.

Written August 14, 2012.