A mother's anguish...

...just a simple thought

although unsettling ones persist,

from the center of my universe

unfolded of the heart

furled in golden ribbons

for you to behold

lemondrop kisses

apricot nectar'd hugs,

you were the sweet little boy

i bounced upon my knee

reminiscing when life was simpler

before the monkey on your back,

twisted addiction zapping your fortitude

pulsing false breaths of pleasure

can't you see past needle's eye/

deeply cutting into darkly dwelt fragility

at what cost will you defray this pain

tearful of ashes that curb this hook'd bag

you're killing us slowly with your fixation

where did my precious baby boy falter

or was it me?...

Author's Note

Reviews

[luviva]

this is a mother's cry...
and i felt for you even though i have no kids of my own
i understand the pain because i see the little boys waste away
on streets puffing away cigarette smoke as you as 12 year... and i cry a
deep cry. you might feel responsible but the son "baby boy" is at fault too
he had a choice, to remain the baby boy that mommy adored or to waste away to an addict.
but fear not... he will return to you!
time will come when he realises that addiction is no good.
everyone has a turning point and his will come.
nice write.. for all the parents and young boys here on WC.
enjoyed it as i always do

[Frieda P]

Thanks for reading this one luviva, hopefully you're right, before something tragic happens.

[luviva]

he will turn round.. just be receptive when the time comes

[TL Boehm]

I could say, it wasn't you but that gnaw...I've felt it myself. Its always there...
I am blessed for the moment in so many ways. My elder likes a good cigar and a shot of whiskey now and then. That's the extent of it. I am grateful. Because I'm a lousy parent - he is alright in spite of me.

[Tai Ryens]

Fearing that your son's frets or troubles originate from his upbringings is a normal feeling among mothers, accompanied by the thought that "maybe if I raised him differently, things would be better." Fine portrayal of motherhood, Frieda. Well done.

[Frieda P]

Thanks Tai, muchly appreciated.

[m.s.early]

Oh no sweet mother twas not you! No not at all. Though the addict may not be at fault he is still solely responsible. I went into an Al-Anon meeting once and was so drenched in guilt felt compelled to apologize to all mothers on behalf of alcoholics and addicts everywhere! Just as foolish of me to think I could quench their regret as it was for them to claim responsibility.

You stab at the heart of the matter so painfully. Such wickedness creeps into the soul and sometimes prevails against the odds. How the odds shrink as we grow older in this matter. How evil those hedonistic chemicals that warp their minds and seep into the condition of those about them. Let this be a reminder that addiction is a family disease, an insanity that knows no discrimination. You capture that so woefully.

No beautiful mother twas not you. We can only love our children to our greatest extent. Even after that their life is theirs.

[Frieda P]

Thanks so much xavier, your kind words mean a lot.

[m.s.early]

You're welcome. Your poem touched a deeply personal nerve. Thank you, poet.

[Joyce S. Greene]

Such a tragic poem, Frieda. I pray that the Good Lord leads your son back to the real world and that your suffering will end soon.

[Frieda P]

Thanks Joyce, much appreciated.

[Rita L. Sev]

Not you, Frieda... I have been watching a friend go through this with his sister; he is most concerned about his parents. He asked me recently what he could do for them, and I told him to continue to be the good person that he is, so his parents can see that they did not fail. I cannot imagine this heartache - the World has demons that find their victims, in spite of love... but Hope is always there...

[Frieda P]

Thank you for your kind words Rita, really means a lot to me.

[therisa]

Frieda, this poem brings back many painful memories, I have of my parents struggling with my younger brother's alcoholism, and various messes, which I helped them, to clean up, after him. Of the many months, my dad cried himself, to sleep. Something, my dad, rarely do, show his emotions to others.

For my dad died, in November 1998, from a broken heart. And my brother was living on the streets, hiding from the family for 3 years, before resurfacing, once more.

I hope, your son find the strength and courage to battle his daemon head-on and regain control over his life.

[Frieda P]

So sad how addiction affects everyone involved, my heart goes out to you as well, thanks for your thoughts here therisa.

[therisa]

Your welcome, Frieda, just wish you didn't have to write a poem like this.

[Frieda P]

Sigh, me either, I wish that every minute of every day...........

[therisa]

I understand.

[Leslie Philibert]

Like this a lot. To add a personal note; my son had these kind of problems, that he thankfully got over.
There is no simple answer, but my position was always ; reject the addiction, not the the person, get help, and often it turns out OK.

[Frieda P]

Good to know Leslie, thanks. And yes, I so agree, people speak of tough love, but the rejection doesn't help the matter in the least. I hope you're right.

[Diana]

Beautifully penned. Pure, raw emotion. Hopefully he'll find his way back...

I realize this is not the same, but my little brother has anger management problems and I can't help but wonder what happened to my sweet, little baby brother? I knew he would grow up, but not like that...

[Travis Gibson (poetic h..]

The anguish of seeing someone for what they were, while watching what the have become. I'm sorry for your pain, but applaud you for this courageous write.