in a kingdom masked of bearing witness
 where the light is seldom seen
resides a mother cloaked in piety
with a soul that harbors mean
she wears her righteousness like armor,
her faith a perfect mask, 
yet beneath the thin veneer of love lies an unrelenting task. 
 
with whispers sweet as honey
sweetness that draws you near --
yet each embrace is laden
with the weight of silent fear
"look at me," she weaves with grace
"in my light you shall thrive," 
yet poison drips from gilded words --
meant to condemn your souls cheer 
 
in meetings filled with fervor,
she beams—a picture of devotion; 
yet behind closed doors?
 wields scorn like waves in violent ocean
“You’re never good enough,”
 “a failure through and through,” 
and in the name of holy love,
she'd bend your will anew. 
 
the congregations sing their hymns
while her face shines bright
like polished mahogany, 
a beacon to the world outside
masking shadows void of love
but oh! the nights are long and cold
when kindness turns to blame; 
for every prayer upon her lips
 bears witness to your trauma’s shame
 
“repent,” she says in sharpened tones—
a scripture laced with spite— 
while wielding holy verses like
swords in the dead of night.  
through every sacred promise made
 and every tear you cried,  
you search for solace in her gaze—
yet find darkness ablaze
 
in whispered prayers you confront your fate—
a maze without an end; 
caught between that faith-draped woman and
 the child who seeks a friend
the echoes of her laughter haunt
where love should freely flow,  
for beneath that mask of witness lies
a soul that feels no glow
 
so here i stand on fractured ground
beneath her weighty reign—  
with layers thick around my heart
stitched from abandonment and pain 
yet even as those scars run deep and
darkness seems to gleam,
i remember still—a light can rise from
ashes born by my creator’s dreams
 
let not her shadow steal my worth
nor bind my faith with despair;  
in breaking free i will  find my song—
a new life waiting there
for love is not possession
wrapped in scripture or decree;   
it is knowing that I am worthy—
even when my narcissistic mother cannot see.

© a.Soul

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#moments #mom #mother #motherslove #family #familyislife #familylove #daughter #jehovah #jehovahswitness