My Prayer


Skies have birds, birds have songs, and songs are beautiful.
Birds… little trinkets of joy hanging from the sky.
I saw them, but could not look.
I heard them, but could not listen.
All I could see was my son hanging.
All I could hear was that last gritty “humph” before the plunge.
I wanted to look away. I couldn’t. Because he pleaded.
I was there when he took the first breath.
He wanted me there where he took his last.
And I did.

My son, the sinner, is punished.
How am I the sinner? Why am I punished?
I wanted to turn blind. I wanted to run wild.
Spare mothers, please… I say!
But I all can do is pray.

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