The martyr
It is not a feeling you forget
You remember the tears you cried that you never let fall,
The look on their faces as they look at you
The wishes they share without meaning to
You will never let them see
You, or silence their pains or let them be.
You will never say no to one in need
Or scuttle away from some unspoken deed.
You will never leave them, controlling your stressful sigh,
Return with a treat, and never let their hope die.
I have heard their thoughts through their eyes, the window to their souls they try to keep shut.
I have tried, I have clung on
My reflections of them which they could never see
I have said, dears, if I have failed, if it be gone,
It be
And your lives from your unfinished search,
If I revealed too much and tried too hard,
Your thoughts may be free
Your wishes or subconscious, your conscious, your secrets, aches, and fears
If I hurt you and injured your inner self
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate
Though why do I reflect,
Reflect on what was never mine?
Since you don’t seems to care
Or rather, not anymore
You never did inside
But that too, I am afraid
Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?
You were explored, you had soul, you forgot
Is it just that you never wanted that knowledge to be heard or known
Believe me, I tried too hard
Believe me, I know you, more than I should, and I loved, I cared too much for you
All.
Based off the poem “The Mother” by Gwendolyn Brooks
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