Second Mommy

 

She watchs from the rocking chair,

Her eyes scanning the room,

Her face and feature unmoving.

 

Little tears form in the sides of her hazel eyes,

Her love eminating around the room.

She watches her chilren sweetly,

And they sleep on.

 

In the corner is the craddle,

Where little Pierre sleeps after crying,

His eyes screwed shut because of illness,

His peaceful breathing disrupted by the wheeze in his throat.

 

The double bed on the left side wall,

full of only one, Kenn.

He sleeps on peacefully, dreaming,

Not at all aware of the rasping cough he lets out every now and then.

 

The other bunkbed on the right side wall,

full of two older children fast asleep,

The girl, Possey, snoring, talking now and then.

The boy, Patt, also snoring, his eyes screwed shut from the desease of Pierre.

 

They stir now and then,

She makes to get up, but sits back down.

Her falcon like gaze switches always back to Pierre's craddle.

He is only two, how can he fight it?

 

When they are awake it is a full day.

She bounces Pierre up and down on her hip,

As she makes breakfast and answers questions.

She will yell from now and again, yell at the little Kenn to get out of the kitchen.

 

Possey will cry and argue when yelled at,

Patt will sulk,

Kenn will sob and hug his teddy bear.

Pierre will not listen at all.

 

Sometimes she can't help herself.

Frustration will boil and build.

Spill over and she will cry,

Cry out, tears of desperation falling down her cheeks.

 

More then once she has starved for them,

More then once she has given up her own comfort,

Her own sleep, her own time, her own love.

No one knows her heart bleeds quitely, bleeds passionately and spills out quickly.

 

Taking her children in her arms,

She comforts them, drying their tears.,

Cleaning their cuts and scraps,

Kissing their bruised knees and bruised hearts.

 

Little do they know,

Little would they care,

For they should not know,

Or see the cabnits nearly bare.

 

Her pockets turn out empty,

Her children cry out in hunger,

And yet she can't give them what they need.

It kills her. It KILLS her.

 

She does not want to leave them alone in the cold house,

Nor did she want him to leave,

Nor did she want to be in the situation.

She would do anything to give them a better life, even if it cost her, her life.

 

Her throat stings as she walks out in the air,

Tears falling down her cheeks,

Crys from baby Pierre eco's in the alley behind her.

She walks out, taking a deep breath of the cold, dank and foggy air.

 

Her heart bleeds faster, as she turns her back on her children to find work.

She could hear Pierre's cry in her head.

Her head ached and her stomach grumbled.

She noticed neither, her heart was too full of fear and pain.

 

For them she worked from dawn to dusk.

For them she left her deseased children in the house.

For them she starved.

For them she bled.

 

Oh dear mother,

Mother with the bleeding heart,

Do not give up hope.

You are doing everything you can.

 

She hugs Pierre close to her chest at night,

He sleeps in her arms,

A peaceful expression on his face,

Her warm tears fall silently on his raggedy blanketed naked body.

 

She sobs out into the night.

Her heart full of desperation like none she has ever experienced.

She was just able to feed them all.

How would they survive?

 

Oh dear mother,

Mother with the Bleeding heart.

Don't give up,

Your almost their, God is on your side.

 

She prays silently.

Her words jumbled all together.

Her lips moving quickly and making no sense to anyone listening.

But God did understand the womans plee.

 

Oh dear mother,

Mother with the bleeding heart,

Walking the streets with her broom,

Her face layered by filth, streaks of pale skin from where she was crying.

 

Little did she know the man in a blue coat,

His brass buttons shining in sun,

Was following her with interest.

 

Oh dear mother with the broken spirit,

Look around, look around.

Your Bleeding heart with stop.

Look around broken mother! Look around!

 

She walks on, head bent to the ground.

Thinking of all the possibities she could.

How many ways she could make more money,

How many ways she could cloth and hospitalize her children.

 

Her ragged dress catches,

Yes! She turns around.

Her eyes water and her cries eco around the town.

The man jumps down and grabs her, kissing her dirty but sweet lips.

 

They are saved!

But the Bleeding Mother is not over.

She yells at the man with hatred then hugs him.

They are now rich with love and money.

 

The bleeding mother is quickly healed,

Seeing her laughing children.

Happy and now healthy.

Never will she forget her bleeding heart, or her bleeding children.

 

Never will she be whole,

But every laugh,

Every smile,

From her children will heal her little by little.

 

Oh dear mother!

Mother with the passionate heart!

Forget your troubles and love life!

Love Mother! Love!