Claudia Krizay (1/28/1956 / Washington DC)
My Mother's Nightmare
I heard you crying in the night,
I heard father’s comforting words
Sounds they were- Indistinguishable.
The hall was dark, I sat by the stairs,
My right hand clutching the banister.
A clap of thunder had awakened me,
Which so many have called the wrath of God?
Although moments later,
The voices inside of my mind were screaming
Threatening words that were deafening-
But that anger emanating from the sky and those voices
No longer unfamiliar- did not disturb me
As did the sound of your tears, never silent, or beyond my control-
On this stunning summer night I can hear the trees rocking and dancing
In a mid June’s breeze-
That breeze that whispers through an open window
Meant to calm me, comfort me, although
The pathos of your crying could have turned that breeze
To a gust of wind that would carry away the splendor of this early summer’s magic.
I heard you crying in the night- Yesterday I found your letter upon your desk
That letter that threatened suicide- All hope within a prayer has disappeared.
You are my mother; you gave birth to me-
How could you leave me alone? I being your only child- not being enough to
Stop you from abandoning me-
At this time of year when everything is renewed,
When the air is fresh and there is a rainbow visible on the horizon?
I heard you crying in the night; life can be so cruel.
Hope within a prayer is rapidly fading- if a God exists,
Why does he make people suffer so, when neither you or myself
Have betrayed anyone or shattered the dreams of anyone?
Shattered dreams have turned to nightmares.
One day you shall be dead and gone-perhaps even tomorrow?
As I rise to my feet, I walk away down this dark hall, away from the stairs.
I need to grasp my own hand, follow my own pathway,
The one I must create for myself, as I hold on tightly to all of my strength-
It is only myself I can depend on, if that gust of wind carries you away,
Hopefully towards a peaceful heaven- I must continue my journey in this life
Without that banister to hold onto, without you- my mother,
I shall live for the loveliness of the season and of the trees outside,
Rocking and dancing in this summer’s breeze- after all trees never weep,
Never hurt and betray us- they keep on growing, always giving us shade and
Best of all, shall always be present- strong and looking beautiful.
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