Ayami Greenwood
I was far too proud
thinking all pain had past,
thinking all scars were mended,
thinking I could count my lucky stars.
Yes mother, I was far too proud.
Now, with bowed head,
instead is only shame.
I swill call your name, again and again.
I vowed to stop burdening you
with my grief.
I vowed to give you your due relief,
claiming you’ve earned lasting peace.
But, it seems, my pain is just released.
Crowding clouds darken every day.
Loneliness marks my time,
mars progress to a fast recovery.
Why is grief allowed to reign?
Is the bar set too high for me?
I cannot depend on being free,
even though I pray and pray.
I must trust the process, gain self respect
or, accept, learn to suspend by belief
grief will entirely end.
But mother, bless me anyway.
