Time for Love

By John I. Blair

My Mom was not a hater.

She could be depended on
For kindness and for love,
Doing unto others
As she would have for herself.

But there was one exception.

Great loss when she was young
Followed by what she felt
As gross mistreatment
Made her hate one person.

At least that’s what I’d learned from her.

And as the person was no better
At her worst than cross and spiteful,
Reminding me of villains
In my story books,

I sided with my Mother

And soured my life with dark thoughts
Of someone I barely knew
Except from tales half-told
And lessons read between the lines.

That was decades past.

Mom’s been gone for thirteen years,
Her nemesis for forty,
Face-offs with her foe had ended
Nearly ninety years ago.

Today I reached forgiveness

Or better put, compassion,
For both of them, and me;
I gave our hate away
And substituted love.

Sad neither one can know.

©2016 John I. Blair