What is the moral?

It was a day of over-emoting
my children swam through
bleary pools of compassion

Early morning was ushered in
with vindictive back-slapping
met with my barked reprimand
Broke loose a floodgate
of self-pitying sobs
utter despondence in the eyes
that swept through me
exposing my despotism
impeaching my love

Detour to the garden
as micro-examination closes in
on a tree, a leaf, a web
a massacre of miniscule
proportions. The horrified
shriek that conveys
torture, blood, painful
suffering and death
rings through the
neighboring yards. Panicked
pleas for aide answered
by futility – a spider has
caught and poisoned
a fat, green caterpillar
no winged glorious future
only writhing, spewing
malevolence. My soothing
assurances that all is right
smack of disinformation.
Her cries of compassion
are real – not affected

We stay inside, huddling
on our cozy sofa with the TV
relaxing in musical utopia
Even here, fear
and sympathy invade
the smallest mind
bring momma running
to calm a pounding pulse
rock away alarm
wait for the next melody
to chase off this latest
affront to a child’s
tender awareness.

I am teaching them to
accept injustice and misery
I am pointing them
toward pleasant apathy
and the bliss of ignorance
Because I am their mother
Shouldn’t I lead them around
all the painful rocks of
hardship they are powerless
to maneuver?

(c) 2007 Tasha Chinnock