The Mother

I will not ask for your mercy or forgiveness.
The former you will not grant,
as long as you need me alive.
And the latter you don't understand.
But in my defence (grim though it is)
I was the victim of my own design.
A Frankenstein scenario of sorts,
And like most parents I was resigned
To being surpassed by my child in due course.

How wrong that assumption was.
My child, that darling apple of my eye,
Is probably in dire need of help.
And now he dares to raise a hue and cry
Against me, his doting mother.

Saying that I'm sick,
I'm wrong.
I'm bloated, disfigured and polluted.
The cradle that gave him shape and form
and life
despoiled and degraded.

I'm glad he never married.
I'd feel sorry for his wife.

I'll admit that in the past I've felt quite loathesome,
They weren't lying when they told you I was ill.
But I'm really getting used to all these changes.
And I'm adapting with a power and a will.

And that arrogant gasbag hangs around all day,
And watches him do all sorts of things,
I'd prefer that such deeds were done in darkness,
But the bastard's out of reach - like he's got wings.
But when he goes away it gets more peaceful,
My son will yawn and blink and go to bed.
And then my friend the moon will poke her face out,
And send her dreams into his raving head.
(She's a peaceful soul,
but unrequited love is so sad. Don't you agree?)
But of course,
Nothing is free,
And she stirs something on me,
But I give her a wave and she passes on.

Now my son is quite disturbed, as I have mentioned.
He's made up friends who come and visit me.
Sad, I know, and mostly ill-intentioned.
But they do the best they can, those friends and me.

The woman I must say I'm rather fond of.
Her ear for prayers and music is divine.
Her embrace is a soft and gentle comfort,
And her sense of irony is just sublime.

The man, now; not as sweet as was intended.
And he had such a hopeful outlook, too.
He's eager to avoid having offended,
But he makes me feel like I don't have a clue.

So you see, I'm not so bad off after all.
My son tried to poison me many times,
in every way you can imagine.
And I know that he should pay for his crimes,
But I just can't
I just can't bring myself to.
And occasionally,
when my breath rustles through the trees
and at the base of the tree
a boy looks up at the vista above him
and says hello to me...

Well, at times like that
I don't want to punish him after all.

Damn it, Jason.