NHT's Writing Desk

a mother's lament -
or, in the wake of mental illness


she lives each and every day an open wound 
seething in longing for her children, and her grandchildren -
there is no relief to be had …
all destroyed by mental illness which implicates her as the cause …
her heart knows otherwise – 
even her stars speak of things like ‘faultless’, ‘powerless’, and ‘destiny’ 
(the latter not to be confused with karma)

and she knows what her grandchildren will know of her:
that she was the marauder, the villain, the family pariah -
so much easier to slander the one than to implicate the Beloved,
the one whose mental illness is truly at the root of this destruction …
(did you know that mental illness can be learned as opposed to inherited?)
oh how different her life if she’d had sons as she’d believed …
yet how delighted she was to have daughters …
at least until this mudslide revealed  that the life she was living 
wasn't the one she thought she was building …
and here’s the irony: before children she’d not had a single regret -
post-motherhood she had only a single regret: having had children at all –
it taunted her very existence to watch the untoward pain 
spilling down from generation to generation of her own progeny -
never mind that to those she loved most, she alone had caused the suffering …
how cruel a god to give you what you dream of most,
only to take it away just when you need it the most …
how is it that love can be so vile and poisonous?

. . . jeez, don’t be so maudlin



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