Written by Minorwork
The young mother drops by
A tear in her eye
Asks for advice that I might give her
If I tell her of things I would try
The burdend be mine and Id not wonder why.
Though some of that I might be willing to do,
If my wife would think the same way too.
I hear that the man thats been with her two years
Is pretty much fed up, said she now in tears.
“Your mother or me,” said he.
The line in the sand, the slap of the glove, the challenge given.
Now I do know what I would have told him.
It wouldnt take long
I dont take
To ultimatums given
By God, my wife, or a son tired of living.
Yes, those three have been given to me
And Im still here, as any can see.
How can I not feel for her?
She at such a young age
So burdened with life,
Has decisions to make
And shes not yet a wife.
Not sure of anything
Not knowing what to do
Loving her child
Who soon will be two.
So I cause her to bring in front of her eye
Results that differ for living each side.
Concentrate and hold in mind’s eye
The things that will come by picking one path
And see if your sleep comes easily at last.
Next week choose the other, and take notes
Sleep if done faster will get the vote.
But this case is not mine to decide
Though I might help probe things of import
Bring out in the open what she feels inside.
Like, the man, means he something?
Or nothing besides
Her mother and her daughter
Itll not be done in just one night
Or maybe a week gone and shell not see the light
Maybe never will she take the bull by the horns
And know shes in charge in her thicket of thorns.
Then she gets into the strife
Of a girl wanting,
To be someones wife.
This young mother, now twenty three
Yearns to be free of the need to decide
The fate of her child and her mothers besides.
How does she find the will to decide
With child almost two and no man by her side?
There’s no place shes wanted,
Having poisoned past nests.
The choices shes got are far from the best.
Her mother, my first wife, is not well,
Requires daily care,
Signed papers to prove it.
Her disability checks wont soothe
Cause she hurts too
At her plan gone bad.
Drives her children away.
I think it sad.
Guilt is her tool to maneuver her children
By the care she gave doing what she could as their mother.
So the good daughter spends her time there.
With her own young daughter she goes to work
Gives her mother some care.
Her mother whos meddlesome ways
Keep family in turmoil and dissent
With lies of omission ‘midst those of intent.
Well, she’s finally’s cried out and leaves.
My wife says of advice,
I’ve not given
And I realize that my way is not for the squeamish
Testing and probing of self to the finish.
So perhaps I’m not liable
To be asked again
For help solving problems
Of others laments.
But she came again today
With an easy request
Her child is hungry
Their fridge emptiness.
I gave to her of something to eat
And money besides for a few days feast.
I say goodbye.
I think some, then sigh.
What will she do after I die?
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