Broke

Today’s prompt was to use the word Broke – I may have something more later, but right now this is all I’ve got.

Mother and baby walking

Broke(n)

We were poor for many years,
you and me.
Babies came along
and made three,
four, five.

We did what we could,
we managed.
Eventually, all your
schooling paid off.
You got raise after raise,
the kind of praise
I never heard at home
with the kids.

And that was when
all my suspicions
proved true:
You weren’t.
True, that is.

So when we left,
the kids and I,
we found a new life
of poverty
and struggle.
It is amazing what it is possible
to juggle with so little help
from back east where you
and your young wife lived.

But, strangely, when I look back
at the time that’s flown, the hard work
to make something of myself
and raise those kids
alone.
Long days, longer nights
often tired to the bone.
I find they are the best years
of my life.

And you missed them.
And I pity you.

 

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8 thoughts on “Broke

  1. I’m taking this poem on its words. Congratulations! You’ve come a long way with success!
    And if it’s not about you, Congratulations, you moved me immensely!

  2. Diana, this is absolutely beautiful in ALL of its brokenness. I love the subtle internal rhyme, the tone, and I adore the strong, centered, amazing woman at the core of this story.

  3. Great. I went through the same with two sons and am so glad. It made me strong and such a tie of love that is lacking with their father. Sad but true

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