Poetry: A Mother’s Distress

ID-100169302 by Sira Anamwong

A Mother’s Distress

Where was He
when I was up all night at Children’s with my little boy?
Where was He
when I had to leave the pharmacy in shame
because I had no money to fill the prescription?
Where was He
when my children’s father ran off with the young girl up the road?
Where was He
when my big son think him turn big man
and start walk with gun and gang?
And where was He
when the police hold the don
and took away my last resort for school fees?

He said to come, reason with Him.
But the church says, don’t ask God no question!
I took up His invitation.
I sat and reasoned with Him,
just like I would reason with a sistren on the corner.
I didn’t hear Him say anything.
But I talked and talked until I was empty.
And I cried and cried until I was dry.

I saw no flash of lightening.
I heard no thundering voice.
But I saw Him the other day
when my little boy stopped wheezing.
I saw Him when the judge gave my big son a stern talking to
and returned him to me teary eyed and remorseful.
I saw Him when my grandaunt in England sent a gift
sufficient to pay the school fees and put food in the cupboards.
And I saw Him as I lay on my bed relieved
that I missed the opportunity to form links with the don,
and let Him into my life instead.

©Dionne Brown 2015

 

Acknowledgement:
Image courtesy of Sira Anamwong at FreeDigitalPhotos.Net

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