Fortified by my seeming indifference and prescription –dulled demeanor,
the tears don’t leak until days later,
in the safety of solitude.
Your weakness has become me,
questions batter my mind with guilt and grief;
Was it my perfectionism? Was I too demanding? What else could I have done?
I tried and tried and tried
to give you all and more,
taking out emotional loans
that you could never repay.
Maybe I made you dependent.
Maybe I smothered you with my
motherly femininity.
Maybe there’s nothing I could’ve of done.
Maybe there’s nothing I can do except wait to see
If you find the strength,
If you accept the chance,
If you give up on this erred identity,
And forge a new self,
Humbler but wise,
Simpler but true,
Feebler but Grace-ful.
