I am sometime restless
with anger, bitterness and shame.

The unwelcomed child
overcomes the educated man
and polished professional.

The wisedom taught in parenting
I sometime hold at arms length.
I see what I need
yet I sometime need not to understand.

I seek the familiar comfort
I rest in sadness and self doubt.
My mothers were good women.
Thoughtful women, who wanted
all things for me.

Yet the pale gray veil
of separation and loss
will often blanket me like
San Francisco fog.

My mothers were good women.
Yet here I stand.

My mother's words
are frozen in my ears
like so much water
from a luke warm pool.

What's it all mean? Not much save for the bitter realization
that our children's lives are forever touched by the choices we make
in the moment.

Every moment will not be our finest
and that fact brings home the most strident of universal truths;
do what you can, when you can, with love in your heart
and your truth in the forefront.

Our children's ears are forever open, their eyes see well beyond
what we say. Thankfully, their hearts are ever hopeful!