diamonds from ash

happy mother’s day. just not to her. if she doesn’t know what she did by now, it’s because she’s in denial about it.

there is a girl in there; i see her still.

behind the eyes that stare a thousand yards,
past all the blemishes collected here,
i see her shadow looking back at me-

past facial hair that must be left to grow
until its final death in lightning sear,
i see a flash of her familiar face.

at first, she only showed herself but rare;
surprising, and yet not unwelcome. now
i see her more and more, most every day,
though often my own heart denies the view.

but you will never see this girl in me.

you care for nothing but the son you knew-
the son you thought you knew- before you chose
to stand in silence as he swallowed lies,
and left you to pursue a ruined life.
you could have stopped him with a single word,
but you kept your lips sealed; so the blood
remains upon your hands as well as his.

in truth you care for that which you once had,
that which has gone and never will return,
that life you cling to vainly, that you try
to recreate. but obligation sole
cannot replace that love; nor should you try
to guilt your offspring back into the frame.

you see the world only as you wish;
you cannot, will not, see the truth of me.
and so my ears and heart are closed to you,
my obligation ended long ago.

if you bemoan the monster i’ve become,
regret your actions first that led to this.

but i know you too well to hope for that.