Wolfwood

This is something that is hard for me to talk about, but surprisingly easy for me to write about...more a string of connected memories than just one.

I remember that day.
The sun was shining bright
in those clear blue skies.
The family, my family, gathered
to celebrate those who gave birth to us.

Dad was by the grill,
spatula in one hand, beer in the other.
A smile on his face as the grill sizzled
while he flipped burgers and dogs.
Everyone was smiling
as we sat on that weather-worn picnic table.

A crunch rang out over the merriment
as a sironed cruiser pulled into our pebbled driveway.
The skies seemed to darken
with two dark clouds, with badges.

They pulled my Dad aside, then my mom soon after.
Confusion was all I felt.
Weren't cops and moms supposed to be good guys?
They lowered her head as she got in the back;
cuffs weren't really necessary, just protocol.
It's ironic to me now that Mother's Day
was the day they took my mom away.

A few weeks have passed,
she's been placed in an institution
where the diagnosis is manic depression.
About ten years and two misdemeanor shoplifting charges to late.
She's a felon now, not yet convicted, and sick.

We go to visit, the place is depressing.
Like those living there.
Small bare rooms, barred windows, simples beds,
and bare souls reflected out of glazed eyes.

We, my brother, sister, and I
sit in the visiting room, waiting.
Dad stands, fighting back tears with built up anger.
He doesn't cry.

Mom walks in,
we all rush to hug her.
She doesn't quite feel the same.
Though, looking back now, I should've realized-
nothing was the same, nor would it ever be again.

Another month or so passes
and the gavel sounds.
"Five years probation." the Judge sentences,
followed by a stern reprimand.

Seems Mom's defense attorney did her job.
If I believed in God, or anything for that matter,
I might've thought her a saint.
But as she said, "Just doing my job."

Few years down the road,
everything seems fine-
'cept there little, or rather, no trust now.
It's the hardest thing to gain
amongst the cynical people of today's world.
The easiest thing to break
and nearly impossible to gain back.

Today, everything is fine
though sometimes those thoughts,
those feelings,
and those memories still haunt.
And it is still ironic to me that Mother's Day
was the day my Mom was taken away.

__________________

We're nothing like God. Not only do we have limited powers, but sometimes we're driven to become the devil himself.