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My mother
That undefeated, immortal being
She gave me my first ragged breaths
But tried to snuff it out.

I wonder
Did she feel love for me the first time she heard those newborn screams?

Was there love in that old wooden ladle as she cracked it across my backside?

I am larger, sturdier now.
No longer a small child.
She is frail, somehow delicate now
Old age has turned that veritable behemoth into the epitome of helpless.

In my mind, forever, will she loom.
Forever will I question her love
Forever will I flinch
Forever I am unlovable to the most loving of creatures

An excellent piece of poetry EmiOllie. I can feel this one down at the bone. I was fortunate to have a wonderfully loving mother which only serves to compound my empathy toward the narrator in this poem. This poem is tragic and yet there is a sweetness to it which towers over the ugliness. When love does appear for this narrator it will be valued and cherished all the more.

Very well written, and thank you for sharing this with me.

Thank you!! This is my first piece of poetry- your lovely reply has inspired me to continue to write more.

What makes this a good piece is that it is relatable to many people. I myself was brought up in a family where physical punishment was given (appropriately), but it made me question my mother's love and motifs my whole life. Your poem hits home and is emotionally difficult to read; I spend a great deal of time looking for pieces like that, call it a catharsis. Thank you for writing it.