Finding the perfect card for an un-nurturing mother is no easy task.
I know my mom gave birth to me.
Our features are the same,
But when it comes to motherhood
She’s only Mom by name.
The horses, cats and Afghan Hounds
Were much preferred by her.
She also knowingly allowed
Abuses to occur.
Yet something in my conscience says
I have to buy a card
Though finding one appropriate
Becomes extremely hard.
Despite the fact I feel obliged,
I cannot tell a lie
And many Hallmark cards are filled
With thoughts I cannot buy.
There are no thanks I wish to send
Except, perhaps, for birth.
The memories are plentiful,
But lacking all in mirth.
I wish she meant that much to me
But no’s the honest truth;
And none of them say, “Thank you Mom
For screwing up my youth.”
And so I survey all the cards
To find the perfect one.
My hope’s diminished as I learn
My search discovered none!
But then I take a second look
And see tucked in the back
A simple card with simple thoughts
Where strong emotions lack.
I take the card; I read it twice.
The drawing on the front is nice.
“This little bird has flown your way
To wish you Happy Mother’s Day!”
"Voilà!" I say; the card is sent,
Relieved until the next event.