Wounded Madonna.

Wounded Madonna.
Where did it all go wrong?
You bring your son into the world,
beautiful child, angelic smile.
Dependent on breast milk
and a mother’s love.

Wounded Madonna.
You have your own stuff to deal with
from your entry into
an uncaring and hurtful world.
The trauma and pain,
Are generational.

Wounded Madonna.
Alone. You do your best.
Husband? Partner? Absent,
as are
The necessities of life,
Money. Food. Shelter.

Wounded Madonna,
Where can you find rest,
space for yourself,
except in the brief solace
offered by tobacco, alcohol and drugs?

Wounded Madonna.
The child grows.
Ahead lies only
Crucifixion. It begins at school
With expulsion for minor misdemeanours.

Wounded Madonna
Next, prison sentences, each one
longer than the last,
until jail itself becomes
his refuge, his home.

Crucified son.
The cycle perpetuates,
as you become a father,
absent of course, and your partner
Becomes another Wounded Madonna.

Christ like,
The doomed baby,
pays for the sins
of its forefathers
in perpetuity.

World
Without
End.