Life loves us

truly

and deeply.

But not the way we want to be loved.

We believe we are her favorite

Special

Precious.

And then our children are born dead

or

Malformed.

Before we know we are young

We are old.

She gives us the largest dose of love,

Sends us out into the world

With no idea of where to put it,

How to wield it.

She punishes us so harshly

But never tells us the rules we are breaking.

And although she takes away every thing that is given,

Though she is ruthless and wild,

Even as she never pities us for the trials we face at her whim, we

Worship her. We tug at her skirts for more. We implore her to

Use us as instruments for her own end. And we

Cannot

Comprehend

(Call it a sin)

the occasional

One of us

Who gives her the big

"fuck you."

Because

We, the sane

Well-adjusted

Know she loves us

Truly and deeply

Just not in the way we

Want to be loved.