Orthopraxy; Or, A Mother’s Pain

I’ve haunted this temple
since the day you were born,
the day I died bringing you here.

I’ve hid behind alters and candle flames,
above rafters, under pews,
to watch you grow into a man.

I’ve tried to not interfere,
let you bloom like wild sage,
but sometimes I have failed.

I’ve never felt a pain—
while living, at least—
comparable to seeing you hurt.

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