Turtledove and the Gladiator

I pray

and my prayers are

unanswered.

I ponder the meaning of this.

1.  There is no one to answer my prayers.

2.   There is some one, and the answer is no.

3.  There is some one, and the answer is
            
                  a withering,

        "Tell her I'm not available to her".

I've lost everything,

My home.

My car.

My children.

Even my damn cats.

I have nothing.

Boxes in a storage unit.

All due to an error in judgement.

Hubris, the Greeks called it.

The tears finally come.

Grief at letting everyone down.

I have failed in my role as

Provider.

Nurturer.

Mother.

The keys jingle as I lock the door

For the last time.

Walking away.

Nothing to vindicate

My actions.

Flesh bleeds.

Fire sears.

The novice grimaces but holds her tongue

during the initiation.

One of us.  We accept  you.  One of us.

Welcome sister.  Your pain is our pain. Your grief is our grief.  Our strength will be your strength.

You are no longer alone.

Yet Again

You growl.

I retreat.

You sulk,

Then justify

Your mood.

I reflect

That the hype

Once surrounding you

Was vastly

Over rated.

So I pack.

And resolve

Not to be taken in

By glitz

And soft words.

Yet again.

Five Minutes

Now is not the time to panic.

Take a deep breath.

Stay calm.

A three year old girl

Whispers

"Hi"

To me,

Before she runs,

Barefoot,

To the other end

Of the library.

I'd give

Whatever is left of my

Broken, battered soul

To have just

Five minutes

Of that little girl's

Peace

Of

Mind.

The end is near.