Which shed more across the years,
Noah's flood, or a mother's tears?
Baby boy nearly born premature,
delayed by doctors, his life ensured,
Arrived three days 'till due date left,
No cry was heard, no fetal breath.
At last a gasp they made him take,
stillborn babe breathed for my sake.
Close to my heart, he always stayed,
but troubled child, his life was made.
Mental wards, and drug abuse,
marked my son---we paid our dues.
Guarded my babe as best I could,
child of my heart, none other would.
Off the meds that kept him sane,
he launched a life, his own soul's bane.
I let him go, he left pell-mell,
Called "tough love"---I called it hell.
On the streets and out of luck,
he lost all friends, and sold his truck.
I couldn't help, his choices made,
broken life, my heart betrayed.
Today in church, head bowed in prayer,
a touch on my sleeve made me aware.
My lost child stood there, his heart awake,
breathing now, for his own sake.
Which shed more across the years,
Noah's flood, or a mother's' tears?
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Author Notes
Thank you so much for the beautiful artwork, "so hurt" by photobeat.
I am seldom at a loss for words, but there are none that can realistically describe the heartache and sorrow caused by drug abuse and mental illness. Those who have been through it at any level, understand. Those that don't, fall on your knees and thank God.
I am under no disillusion that my son's problems are close to over, but today, he has a job, and today he walked 18 miles to surprise me in church. Today I cried for all the right reasons.
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