I'M Not My Mother Poem by Jan E Smith

As I sit in my room in the darkness of night,
my breath becomes shallow and my chest so tight.

Wondering why God has kept me here,
with haunting memories and lingering fear.

Since I can remember, I’ve strived to be
kind, responsible, independent, and free.

But now simple tasks tend to tire me out,
and yesterday’s hope has changed to doubt.

I look for the answers, yet they’re nowhere to find
And often I feel like I’m losing my mind.

Will my body succumb to this inevitable fate?
Are surgeries, medicines, and doctors too late?

I watched as my Mother went down this same path,
And it filled me with sorrow that turned into wrath.

When she died and she left me back on that day
Leaving me there, even though I did pray.

Now I try to be tough and I try to be strong,
Yet I too am scared that I may not live long.

And the burden is heavy that they place on me
When they ask for assurance that I’ll always be.

So here I sit and write this crazed poem,
In the late hours when it’s quiet at home.