A Mostly True Story

Mother the first time you left me I came back throwing up
Whoever your mother was she didn't teach you much
You sent me out over and over again for years
With nothing but crusts of bread and my tears
I felt the red thread that binds us ripping
I felt your hold on me slipping
And I was hungry, I was empty
You wondered why I craved nothing but sugar
Why I needed sweetness to fill my hunger
I grew fat but I did not ripen
In truth I was too frightened
I searched for a mother everywhere
People to hold me those who care
I found her in Demeter the mother of Persephone
And she taught me how to be kind to me
Was she the witch that everyone thinks?
No it's true she holds me in the fire
But only to strengthen my desire for life
With her I found the gypsies of the wood
I danced and sang and learned much that was good
Now when I come home my mother barely recognizes me
She wonders why I'm so wild and free
I look at her and see the hurt child she has been
And that makes me kind where I could be mean
So in the end did I ever grow up?
Has all my journeying been enough?
Mostly I think I've got wonder lust
And you'll not see me for the dust

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem