Walking With Angels

Walking With Angels

I wasn't perfect mother,
I was flawed and I was real.
I didn't just lay there looking beautiful
On the other side of glass, only to
Leave you In a mist of illusory beauty.
No....You had to feed me, change me,
Suffer through my wailing, and my failing;
I interrupted your nights,
And ran through your scripted days,
Disappointing you with every sunrise
And again when the sun set on your longing.
You should have opted for rocking
Your armful of remembered perfection
And your weekly visits to a plot in babyland,
The place you took me to spoon feed me grief.
But it's ok really, mother,
While you were worshiping your wishing stone,
I played with angels, and maybe one was my sister,
Her spirit was never in the box in the ground
Where you knelt.
You should not have had a replacement
To lay your sorrow upon;
you were doomed to disappointment .
Yes mama, I was flawed, and
I was real
Never made for perfection,
But made strong enough to carry
The weight of your sadness and your tears
Through a whole lifetime of years.

Reviews

[DANGER]

i really love that. so much human nature comes through. it's a gift

[Ed Hart]

they didn't have a choice because they didn't know there was a choice...so they pass it on, they make it worse, this life thing...we, some of us, sucked it up, plowed through, still not perfect, but better, lighter, cleaner...and even now, with what we have left, we become the living message of how to choose, of how not to blame either the past or the future...after all, life has to be about something, about being lighter...blessing on you