The Tragedy of Parenting

Wretched Words a Maiden Heard

I command thine ears to lend themselves to me
Forever more thy self to me shall heed
Thine life will be a life of mis’ry
Of sorrows suff’rd and of hearts that bleed.

Upon mine acts thine youthful eyes shall cry
And look upon my self with scorn and hate
And thou will wish upon my soul to die
To heed the hymn that leads to heaven’s gate.

Desiring freedom from thy curs’d state
In vain thou shall thy sweet self ill deceive
And in the end thou curse’d thy wretch’d fate
For from mine life thou shall not ever leave.

These are the words thy wretched self shall hear
Like poison’d daggers coursing through thine ear.

Professions of Love Bespoken

Fairest child of mine – I command thine ears to lend themselves to me. Let mine words shine bright on frank intentions so that they may bear memory of the abundance and beauty of my love for thee. In the cruelty of youth, thine ears shall shadow sentiments of true devotion and thy heart shall blacken to a mother’s tongue. I know only too well that woeful journey for I have travel’d it before. ‘Tis a road of treachery and tears but alas, it is thine due and I shall whether the tempest of thine sorrow until thy swift return. And when thou dost return, thine ears shall seek the comfort of true love and behold in my words the solace that thou seeketh despite the rift that thou dost try to breach.

Forever more thy self to me shall heed for the reigns of love that bind a woman’s bosom to her child are too the reigns that bind a life. There is wisdom in my words, child, words that thou dost best to heed. Thine life will be a life of mis’ry as I entreat thee to give due to thee of all which thou deservest, I will ne’er rest in my praise of thee nor in my entreaties to unlock the treasure of thine fate . Thou art a peerless dame, a mighty warrior of life. My voice shall ne’er tire of calling you to triumph.  But so and so, thine life will be a life of sorrows suff’rd and of hearts that bleed when my entreaties wear on thou and when thine own efforts are a torment to thy heavy soul

Upon mine acts thine youthful eyes shall cry for denials and refusals of thy demands will be plentiful and still, a steadier hand than mine thou will not find in teaching thou to satisfy thy needs thyself. Thou shall look upon my self with scorn and hate for heavily shall I ground thee when thou desirest to soar and with swift motion shall I fling thee to the stars when a thousand shackles thou seekest. And thou will wish upon my soul to die, to heed the hymn that leads to heaven’s gate. Plenty will be the times when thou deepest wish will be for lonesome days stripped of mine company. Alack! Thine wish shall be fulfilled with the certainty of prophecies come true and then I shall drown my eye, unused to flow.

Sweet love, mine child, desiring freedom from thy curs’d state, in vain thou shall thy sweet self ill deceive. In that frailty that thou doth embody, the spirit of mine love growest strong and in the end thou curse’d thy wretch’d fate for from mine life thou shall not ever leave, a mother’s love shall never fade.

So long as I shall breathe or mine eyes shall gaze upon thee, these are the words thy wretched self shall hear. ‘Tis only a dream that these here words bespoken in the summer of my life shall fall upon thy fairest head in a shower of most tender embraces and not like poison’d daggers coursing through thine ear. But alas, thus is the tragedy of a parent.

All content is copyrighted by Karla Valenti. Unauthorized reproduction of this material is expressly forbidden.

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