Part XIII<\/p>\n
Not many weeks after my prayer offered
\nto a perfect God,
\nfrom the pit of my sinful nature,
\nmy daughter was conceived\u2026
\nthe conception that finally put alcohol beyond my reach,
\nand my husband became even more irritating;
\nhe was much better tolerated through inebriation.<\/p>\n
when early morning breaks,
\nand I see parcels of light,
\nbreak through the venetians,
\nsummer\u2019s end nearing\u2026
\nI realize that I am still in a war;
\nI pick a pocket full of poppies,
\ntake in a long, deep breath,
\nchoke on myself and go on.<\/p>\n
Go on\u2026
\nwhy must I?
\nIs there a law that says I have to go on?
\nI mean now,
\nnot then.
\nThen I was young,
\nthought I had a chance,
\ncarrying the love of my life,
\nthe same life that would marry
\nand bring two more loves of my life\u2026
\ncrazy how that works \u2013
\nlife, procreation,
\nlittle hands and feet that march on your heart
\nand create a trail that no briar can cover.<\/p>\n
Go on\u2026
\nwhy must I?
\nI stayed with that man until he found sobriety,
\nI stayed with him faithfully until\u2026
\nwell, even now\u2026
\nI was there when he decided I was no longer useful
\nand he cast me aside,
\nfound someone else,
\nthey broke up two homes,
\nhurt three children,
\ndestroyed my spirit,
\nand yet,
\nI forgave \u2013
\nin his current putrid state,
\nI can look him in the eyes and know, I have forgiven\u2026
\nso I ask again,
\nwhy go on?
\nI have no regrets,
\nI will die a one man woman,
\nI birthed the perfect, beautiful daughter,
\nI love and know my two perfect grandchildren,
\nI love the poppies;
\nanything red\u2026just like my little grandson;
\nwhy fight a war,
\nwhen I don\u2019t think there will ever be a winner?
\nIt\u2019s like Vietnam \u2013
\nno winner.<\/p>\n
– Michellia D. Wilson 8\/23\/14 8 PM<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Part XIII Not many weeks after my prayer offered to a perfect God, from the pit of my sinful nature, my daughter was conceived\u2026 the conception that finally put alcohol beyond my reach, and my husband became even more irritating; he was much better tolerated…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":21,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3280","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3280","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/21"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3280"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3280\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3286,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3280\/revisions\/3286"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3280"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3280"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3280"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}