Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Like Sitting Shivah

When you first came,
fifty pounds wet
and seven years old.
Cast off from family,
chased by the crazies,
held out in shelters
until you found our refuge.
You became my little girl.

But now I have to let you go.
Like sitting shivah for the week
after accepting that you can never
be who I imagined, prayed and desired
you to be.

I have come to terms to peace
with what you have become and
what you might have been all along.
For it's not evil, not even bad choices
but a condition, like wiring done wrong
that gives the ideas, that creates it's own mayhem.

For now I resist you,
protecting your son.
I know I can't trust you.
I surely cannot win.
Never will, 
but I love you,
I must
for the rest of my days.


  1. Not sure what you mean about the form sucking...this is beautiful and heartbreaking.

  2. feeling the silent grieving