‘tis said
the meek shall inherit the earth
that leaves me out...
but I know
a woman
whose meekness knows no bounds
as does her kindness
her sweetness
her ability to survive
a wicked mother
a cowed father
childhood abuse
sold to the only bidder
who didn’t know how
to care for a woman of glass
plagued with migraines
fragile health
an unfulfilling marriage
the death of a daughter—
yet she still stands
and smiles
and laughs
and when we talk
asks how I am
before I can ask her
I see the network of cracks
but can do nothing
just witness the day
she finally shatters...
and grieve
©2024 and 2026 Kate McCormick
~For Nora
I talked with my good friend Nora today, and it brought to mind this poem I wrote for her a couple of years ago. I never shared it with her because I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I’m happy to say she’s still hanging in there.
Image from Pixabay.
