AnchoredInHisGrace

by a Mother Who Loved Too Much

I carried you, my heart, for nine full months,
Dreamed of lullabies and soft, sweet tunes.
Never once did I imagine or see,
That my own child would raise a hand to me.

A blow that stole my breath, my peace, my name—
Left me with a concussion, wrapped in shame.
I stood by you, fought shadows in the street,
Chased the boys you followed, theft on repeat.

And her—yes, the girl you struck me for,
Brought chaos to your life, opened prison doors.
She stole your money, twisted your mind,
But still you stood blind, still you were kind.

You drank the poison your father fed,
Believed the lies while I bled.
You saw the truth—he turned away,
Cared more for court than if you were okay.

You break me, son, in ways words can’t express,
Each call for help leaves behind more mess.
You keep my grandbabies hidden from view,
Yet they know the other side—never knew me, too.

No birthday candles, no shared delight,
Only silence on each lonely night.
You call when you need, then vanish once more,
Like I’m some stranger, not the one who bore.

But I’ve reached the edge, no tears to cry—
This mother’s love has run dry.
No more saving, no more fall,
I’ve found the strength to build my wall.

You’ve made me null and void, you see.
So now, my son…
You are the same to me.