What woman, with pain coursing through her labouring body,
Inhaled and exhaled in horror...knowing that death was closer than
The Priest?
What mother remembered the knife that gave her infant daughter
Life...
Then cursed her daughter-ravaged body...cursed her blood.
Mother. Mother, was this woman you?
Mother. Mother, rosary-seeking your way to God.
I can excuse. I can forget...but,
Mother, why have you never forgiven me?

What pale, exhausted mother, free of me unnaturally,
Birthed me in the morning light, only to punish me in later years for
Staying under the Sun?
What Heaven-bound mother knelt long years in pews,
Praying for me...what gratification was revealed to her
In the sight of God, haloed in thorns...His Cross
Suspended in silent darkness?

She is old. Her clouds are dimming. Her time to laugh is
Quickly finishing.
We never laughed together.
We never laughed.
Lord...I do not ask to be forgiven. I do not think that You should, but
If You see...and see to care... if You are really there, then hear:
Through my fault, through my most grievous fault...I have tried.
But I have lost the way to go home.
I am afraid.
Lord...I am not worthy to begin that journey again.

Must I sin to be forgiven? Christ, I cannot forgive.
Must I be wronged before I can pardon? Lord, I cannot forget.
I do not ask to be forgiven.
I do not think that You should...perhaps a time may come.
But, if You are there...and understand,
All I ask is a place in the Sun.

The Sun is behind me.
My Mother stands in my shadow.
She is a large part of my darkness.
Once...I was part of hers.

elysabeth faslund

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-and-daughter/