My girls are expecting,
New babies are a joy, excitement is mounting,
Come September, two more treasures
There will be eight.
Daughter two calls
She is doing well, baby growing, kicking.
She has fifteen weeks to go.
Her son, he is seven, he is excited,
The new dad, his first, in his nervousness
Fusses over my daughter, wants only the best.
But in the midst of this excitement,
Of families growing, new life emerging
There lurks in the shadows a malevolence.
After fifteen years, still a bitterness, unable, unwilling
To accept children grown to adults,
Making decisions, directing their lives.
Negativity seeps into every conversation
Children made to feel inadequate
Unworthy, not up to scratch, less than the other sister
One has married, one has chosen not to,
Equally good parents, equally loving,
But one deemed second best,
And rightfully pissed.
But worse, much worse,
A mother who alienates
Herself from a family who offer so much
To have thrown in their faces
‘You don’t measure up,
I don’t approve,
You are far less than the other.’
Sadly that’s your style,
Divide and conquer
One against the other
Fracture and destroy.
Or so you’d like.
As much as you try, desire it
We know it wont happen
For their love is strong,
Sisters united against a common foe
Too robust now, no longer children.
They have another parent, stronger
Loving and caring, supportive and there.
He will not allow them
To succumb to your taunts.
They are determined,
Loyal always to each other,
Leaving you to wallow
In your own filth.
The loathing you created
Has poisoned them against you
My children avoid you
The obscenity of that alone
Harbours my own loathing.
How sad for you and them.
Where are you?
In moments when they call me
Distressed from prior interactions
I ask, where… is…
The mother my child is entitled to?
Written for: http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/2014/03/09/prompt-46-bitter-loathing/
Morpethroad 