It all began with one

The mold that could not be broken

Perfection, Ideal, Flawless

No need for any others; she was my soul, my core, my being

I had the greatest, the best, the holy of holies

Then came the second

The mold was shattered

There could be no mold each was irreplaceable

Unique, separate, perfection, individual, amazing

I fell in love with both deeply and passionately to my soul and core

Both were holy, both sacred, both of God’s handiwork

When it seemed the work was done, another arrived

He, too, was his own and was irreplaceable

Precious, loving, lively, aware, brilliant, spirited

Another who made their place in my heart, my soul and my core

Where I thought I had no more room

God made that room and made him perfect

But then life changed; often radically

Father and mother split, the three grew older

The three became aware of truths based on their realities

Opinions became their own, joy, sorrow, pain, love, anger…

All seen, shared and felt by all

Separations happened, illnesses happened, resentments built over time

Now the three are grown but yet still young

And a mother weeps in anguish; her soul, her core torn from her

The three have rejected the one who bore them

Words spoken and unspoken, wedges driven, sides and stances taken

The ugliness of divorce appears again; narcissism becomes clear

The three siblings bond as a unit against the mother for being

A mother – the one who bore them but imperfect, flawed, guilty of sins

But yet, has time and again, begged for forgiveness

Only to be rejected time and time again – it’s never enough

Not good enough, not painful enough, not gruesome enough

Not “dead” enough for these three

The grudges taste like poison but they expect the mother to die

But she doesn’t – she lives on and tries to reach out

Until now. No more.  This time, two are soldiers in service

One is deployed waiting for his call to battle

Both have said their “goodbyes” to the one who bore them

And made sure she was in misery but the anger was there

For them.  But for the one who bore them, though in pain

Her life moves on.  Her soul, her core has shifted and become herself. 


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