Investigation Motherhood:

May Mother never Rest in Peace!

Near an empty box of dryer sheets, now a lifeless body lays,

Smothered by a toddler and smells of being there for days.

He hadn’t said a word, didn’t even leave his favorite toy,

But, cause of death still known only by the silent boy.

He was cutting at her curls with Popsicle covered scissors,

Tickled up her leg, and then covered her in lizards.

Sitting on his knees, filled her pockets full of rocks,

Then was pulling fruit snacks from the bottoms of her socks.

The door left widely open, and the house in disarray,

But, the children kept on playing like it was just another day.

Her body found bra-less, and covered in Crayola,

Hair showed sign of struggle and her face was splattered in canola.

Under her arm was the tucking of a broom,

And her purse was found empty and scattered through the room.

Someone must have found it and she had just been robbed.

Thoughts of handling that household, and her husband simply sobbed.

What were the answers? She’d already survived so much.

They actually caught the bus, completed breakfast, and she packed their every lunch.

She yanked them out of bed and through the grocery store.

Scooped their mac ‘n cheese when asked, “a little more?”

Took her for a lesson, and washed his soccer shirt.

Spanked their asses often and kissed them when they hurt.

She piggy-backed toddlers, and choked with every lope,

Possibly couldn’t die from a neck wrapped in rope.

She peeled apples daily and broke up many fights,

Hadn’t slit her wrists and couldn’t die from fitting into tights.

The house had no sign of drugs,

But, bruising on her arms could have been from many hugs.

There hadn’t been a bomb, simply spaghetti O’s she was nuking.

No sign of poison, rather just a baby had been puking.

It resembled a tornado, but the weather had been mild.

Debris scattered was simply damage caused by spinning of a child. 

There were messes in the kitchen from something she was making,

Could she really just have died from something wrapped in bacon?

An autopsy reveals, her heart was very large, and her hands extremely worn.

Excessive levels of a substance, confirmed as only ketchup with presence of a thorn.

Her stomach containtents were mostly chocolate, dirt, and gulps of swallowed pride,

And her mouth was filled of milk and on her face was some dried.

There was plastic in her teeth, and bruising on her chin,

Signs of him attempting to force a Sippy-cup in.

The neighbors all were questioned, but there wasn’t much they knew,

She’d been screaming “Help, help!” for at least a year or two!

The cops always said, “There’s just nothing we can do,”

But, even volunteer firemen didn’t come to rescue.

They spoke of crazy sightings, when peeking through the fence,

And confirmed loud bangs, but common to the residence.

The news paper stated briefly, that she had died,

But the police couldn’t solve it, and their hands were tied.

Her job listed, “no employment” and her income held at zero.

But, her children had rebuttal, “She was simply our hero!”

She didn’t sleep for nights, and the days never gave a break,

But now, she jumps once again, knowing there is dinner she should make.

Floating dandelions on the sill, empty dressing upside down,

Just the ends of the bread, but there wasn’t time for town.

So, she better get creative with only what they had,

And through it all together before any sight of dad.

Maybe a miracle, when the woman finally stood,

There is no need for funerals, it’s simply motherhood! 

May we never rest in peace! Happy Motherhood! Its 365, not just today!