It
was
only
yesterday
that
a
monologue of despair
detailing
the difficulty
in
meeting my needs
passed
my lips
no
help from
the
meek
mild
or
avenging
forthcoming
a
lamentation was
the
best I could do
but
that
night
on
hearing a story
about
an old woman
who
likes to
get
out and about
but
no longer can
without
help
and
her son
who
lovingly
protects her
from
all harm
as
best he can
feeling
guilty
when
she gets hurt
as
happens
despite
his best efforts
though
in
the story
when
chaperoned
in
her wheelchair
on
an outing
by
a close
and
trusted friend
of
her son’s
she
foolishly
jumps about
with
such force
she
falls
over backward
bumping
her head
which
bleeds
as
bumped heads
can
do
though
she is
not
otherwise hurt
and
unconcerned
but
because
she
understands
if
her son finds out
as
he will
he
will suffer
unnecessarily
nothing
she says
changing
that
she
asks
her
son’s friend
to
whom he listens
if
he
feels guilty
for
what was
clearly
her
own doing
to
which
he
says no
only
concern
and
a
little blood
from
a
scalp wound
doesn’t
seem like much
to
him
a
story
I
did not
fully
understand
though
the moral
seemed
clear
that
being
alive
and
getting around
as
best we can
no
matter how careful
we
may be
will
always involve
some
foolishness
leading
to trouble
but
rarely
so
bad
we
need berate ourselves
for
an outcome
human
nature guarantees
just
enough truth
to
ease my mind
for
a while
when I awake.
