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Giver of life,
thief of my worth.
Was I a blessing
or was I her curse?
She’s the foundation
of my existence,
the spring from which I flow.
But her anger was obvious.
It left scars in my soul.
And I don’t know
if I remember
ever being told
You’re beautiful!
Good job!
I’m proud of my girl!
These are words all
daughters
need in their world.
At three I waited patiently
for a hug and a kiss.
She gave food, clothes, and shelter.
She did her job
I guess…
Still, I wanted
love,
attention,
emotional nourishment.
She let me starve
as I hungered for her affection.
Forty years later
I still have to question,
if she wanted me
or was I an obligation,
a situation
to make the best of.
It matters
because today
I still want
my mother's love.
