POETRY
BY
MELODIE EARICKSON
O MOTHER OF MINE
How much of me is me, Mother?
And how much of me is you?
And does it matter, Mother?
I have your strange contorted toes
Your ample hips and swollen thighs
Your vertically wrinkled upper lip
Your irrational fear of any reflective surface
(God forbid you should have seen yourself aging)
And your inconsolable rage when hurt
your jealousy that literally made you want to die
(Oh, how could you take center-stage anytime, anywhere!)
But I also have your tenderness and caring when you felt like it
And your sensitive soul always hoping to see beauty
And finding it is such unexpected places
And your love of books, books, and more books.
Yes, I know that part of me is you, Mother.
And part of you was me—for once, you loved me.
I was your child, O Mother of Mine.
But still I ask
How much of me is me?
But in the end, does it matter to you, Mother?
Why does it matter to me?
I still ask myself
How could you discard me, like someone you never knew,
Because I challenged you when you lied to me?
You always taught us to speak out about right and wrong.
When I did, you regulated me to the scrapheap of humanity
Instead of showing me any compassion.
Much less admitting the truth.
But in the end, does it matter to you?
I wish I knew.
I was your child,
And once you loved me, didn’t you?
I was your child
And now you are gone
And none of this matters anymore,
Does it?
Now I am just me.
But sometimes I wonder,
O Mother of Mine.
PLEASE, GOD
I’m not that old, am I?
Do you think I am?
At any rate, I’m not ready to die
Or did you confuse me with someone else?
It’s me, you know, the one you occasionally help out
When everything goes wrong.
It seems everything is going wrong now:
This cancer thing.
What’s that all about?
Was that in your plan for my life?
Is there a plan?
Can you hear me?
Are you even there?
What’s the point of asking?
If you don’t want me to die from this
Horror of a disease,
You could make it go away
If you wanted to
Do you want me to beg?
Now I feel I’m being disrespectful
Talking to you like an equal
I just want to know what you’re thinking
What you want
I’ll beg if it would help
And I’ll call it praying
Please, just a few more years is all I’m asking.
Why not?
I’ve always stood up for you.
Now I’m reduced to saying something I’ve always hated:
If it is Thy will,
So be it.
But I’m still begging you to change your mind.
I mean praying
Please, God
FOLLOW UP ON ‘PLEASE, GOD”
I don’t always wear a bra when I go to the grocery store
I eat off paper plates now
I lose my balance when I walk
I don’t sweep the floor
I don’t make my bed
I can’t sleep
The chemo isn’t working
My numbers are getting worse
Does the Bastard in the Sky care?
Evidentially not
Why should He?
I’m just an old lady
He’s got more important things to do
Who am I kidding?
He doesn’t exist.
Out of the blue
A gold earring I lost two years ago
Shows up in my bathroom
I must be delusional
I thank Him
And start to hope again
April 23, 2023