© 2016 Barbara Grace Lake
How can you ask me where I’ve been,
When, Mother, Where were you?
When, Mother, Where were you?
You scorn, demanding where I’ve been,
I answer, Where were you?
I answer, Where were you?
Or plead, imploring where I’ve been,
I cry out, Where were you?
I cry out, Where were you?
When once I’d babble where I’d been,
So childlike, Where were you?
So childlike, Where were you?
You cared too little where I’d been,
And late. Oh where were you?
And late. Oh where were you?
Now I’m condemned for where I’ve been.
Dear God, Mom, where were you?
Dear God, Mom, where were you?
January 29, 2016 at 6:58 pm
Wow, very powerful.
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January 29, 2016 at 7:23 pm
Oh, Aodhan. You have no idea how much your comments mean to me. I’ve long ago realized I do not write “pretty” poetry, so having someone like what I do write is doubly appreciated.
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