A poem for my mother
hurts me to admit
the tables were turned
when her youngest daughter was twelve
she left without much thought
five hours away
she couldn't expect the unexpected
no one would have seen it
her justification felt feeble
she could've come back
she didn't
the reasons were selfish
someone so inconsiderate doesn't consider
their inconsiderations
not until later
but later is too late
and the guilt of thinking
becomes unbearable
after the harsh reality has been accepted
her mother's expectations lower
not low enough
still not met
a daughter's intent doesn't match her actions
the realization of the hurt she is capable of
the hurt she inflicts
is just too much
but things become clear
and no longer
will a mother's need
go unfulfilled