The Perfect Mother, a poem. Happy Mother's Day

                                                            The Perfect Mother
                                                                       By
                                                          Teena Vaughn D'Annibale

Feelings of alienation, abandon and success sit on her soul. 

The solace are the young, still innocent, unaffected by ego. But that will not last long, and she will be alone again. 

 Blamed for every problem, rewarded for no success, or sacrifice.

No matter the choice or outcome she is perceived to have motives, and evil intent; trust issues and jealousy smother her twilight years. 

Respect is gone, replaced with disdain or "grinning and bearing" on their part. 

Preferences suggested, when none are present; equality has been her north star as a mother, working diligently on breaking the perception chains of the past, to no avail or success. 

Yet she is content and happy with her products, advertising them far and wide at every location and feels a great success.

A lifetime of work and dedication: stripped to make better with one, hope with another, replaced by women as it should be with two more. 

But none with the wisdom to see: the sacrifice, the dedication to learn how to do it right, the burning love that makes her soul ache with loneliness for her present and future.

Her only thought ever - them. 

With no regard for her life or personal goals she prioritized her hours, days and years for them without a thought, for they are her very breath and when glimpses were presented over time, over her life, for personal gain these successes, made of idols and dreams, were always eclipsed by the welfare of those she bore. 

These mock successes, were stained with hospital beds and battlegrounds, young heirs and brave pursuits beyond abilities and so discarded. 

However, the ultimate goal is reached. 

She, the success, sits alone in mind only, for she is smothered with bodies and souls who share her DNA, but few or none will hold her soul with care, refusing to show no regard for their own. 

Few reflections of her are willing to gently massage her ego, fears or feelings as gently as she held and massaged their's . 

The most success breeds the ones who need no one, 

not even her. 

And she smiles and cries at her brilliance at being a wonderful mother.

She looks in the mirror, alone, and smiles, knowing she succeeded in the quest so many years ago she set. 

Seeing no one behind her she faces, with pride, the product of the perfect mother.