Parents

Still wrapped in a blanket
Sitting in the cold
Wrapped in the colors of our making
Some complex webs
Of doubt and fear
Began before we could create them-
Our lovely parents
Set the glue in place
Some are artisans,
Some enchanting inspirations
While other parents simply
Taught us chaos
Filling our rooms with poor choices
Abusive sights
And destructive guidance.
Then some were somewhere
But never seemed to be there for us
They could not be faulted
By their sufficient completion of provisional supplies
Leading us to fend for ourselves
In the emotional arena.
Why does one sibling
Seem so “special” always “the one”
Who got everything the parents had to give;
While the other child got merciless recognition
As the identified family problem.
And why do some parents emulate
The meaning of lovers
While others can barely stand alone?
And some weep vengefully with internal morose,
While others pause in gratitude,
embodied in the miracle or our existence.
The answer lies somewhere between DNA and Karma
But we stay wrapped in our blanket
Until we learn how to nourish and nurture ourselves.