Motherhood Persecuted
“Roses need a lot of fertilizer,” my Grandpa used to say.
In one easy step, you can give your roses two of the most important requirements they need to reach their maximum growth potential, food and water.–(Miracle-Gro Rose Plant Food box)
Mad at me, the father of my child.
Mad at me, the world for having fatherless children.
Mad at me, the ones I cannot repay.
Mad at me, the judges who only see what is left
undone.
Mad at me, me, I cannot keep up.
“It’s all your fault,” they brag, tying up heavy burdens that they are unwilling to carry.
“You’re not good enough,” he says.
“You’re not lovable,” they cackle.
“You’re not doing it right. That is why you suffer.”
Then, a mystical rain begins to soothe the thorns, sprinkling the poor, the neglected, the abandoned, the ones stifled by brambles and burrs, and too much undiluted phosphates and nitrogens.
He thirsts.
She rains.
Through weeping, strength’s stems grow.
Through suffering, beauty develops her roots.
Through enduring, petals explode an array of colors that the world will most likely refuse to see because blossoms are pregnant with eternity.
This is why He died on a tree.
lamehousewife
