In the Eyes of Her Mother

            

An innocent child, searching to see a benevolent creator

Reflected in the eyes of her mother-

           

But rather than love, reflected there-

A distant, cold weariness- in her mother’s stare

A look of a person circling a wild beast in fear

Met her eyes, as to her mother she tried to draw near

            Confusion, fear, unable to understand-

            What she did wrong, to be treated with such a callous hand-

           

Her innocent trust of what others had said-

            Causing distress in her tiny head

            Where is the loving God church-school told her of?

            And how had she called down such wrath from above?

            For of God’s punishment, they spoke as well

            Saying only children of God were saved from hell

            They said she was a child of God, loved and protected

            But her mother had not reacted as expected

            If she was a child of God, and a child of her mother

            That must mean that God couldn’t love her

            Because every time she saw her mother’s face

            It was clear she was looked at as being a disgrace

            How could she see God as anything but disappointed and sad

            Because she obviously had been nothing but Bad

            Otherwise her mother would be able to see

            That there was good in that tiny little ‘me’

            Torment and pain running through her soul

            Just to be loved, that was her goal

            How could she end her mother’s fear

            So she could be loved, and held as dear

            Why couldn’t her mother understand

            Her mother held God’s image in the palm of her hand

            Until she released from disgrace her tiny child

            God would see the girl as nothing but defiled

            Her mother and God were one in the same

            And she was just a pawn in her mother’s vicious game

            Used to torment her father, out of her mother’s spite

            Her mother always baiting her father into a fight

   

            Portraying herself as the savior from above

            A God of anger and control, not of love

            Always battering him back into his shell

            His own personal living hell

           

            Painting an image of a God that is cruel and unjust

            Expecting obedience, demanding perfection as ‘a must’

            And yet ‘perfection’ she would never let you attain

            For she planned never to let another- her power gain

            If she could keep us thinking we weren’t good enough

            No one would ever call her on her bluff

            For it is her heart that is cold as stone

            And her inner child shivering and alone

            Her image of God lacking all love

            Because she got it from her father, not from above

            And rather than face a God that was so cold

            To her game of control, her soul she sold

            Thinking that some day she could prove her father wrong

            And show that in the halls of “good enough” she did belong

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.