My Mother Bleeds

My mother bleeds

from the torn skin on her arthritic knees

from her last big fall,

she bleeds

from her lungs when she

breathes,

from her heart, her soft heart, and

from her soul.

She bleeds continuously and no one bothers

to clean up the mess or

apply a bandage or

hug her or

let her know that they really do love her.

I bleed from my knees

because I scratched them too hard

when I was angry with myself,

and I bleed from my heart,

my wounded heart, and from my

soul.

I bleed continuously

and no one bothers to clean up the mess

they made

or bandage the gigantic hole

they made

or hug me

or let me know that they really do love

me.