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