When I was a child
I was not above violence
And cruelty was a virtue
Yet despite violence done to you
You swaddled life with a maternal motherliness
When no mother laid willing to keep you warm
You carried me even when you were not carried
Though you were only a child
There were times I would look at you, puzzled
With your cheeks stained in tears
Mouth agape as you wail relentlessly
Now I seem to be at an age where
I want to paint that same display
But the brush never seems to reach my face
On nights I am given a reprieve
You still carry me to bed under the blanketed stars of night
As I try to figure out a way out of here
Like you did