Mary and Martha — a poem

Photo by Antônia Felipe on Unsplash

Can you fit me in, between your jobs?
My Mary worth your Martha’s hour
A sit down, perhaps for tea around the fire.

‘T’ween scolding chores, midnight hour
I’m sad to see your corporate grunt,
The spawning of yet another dolt.

While a punisher god spurs you on,
And a devil says the words ‘not enough,"
What happened to you my friend?

You got swept up inside your head,
Sacrificed a thousand smiles for
A dung heap and a stinking pile.

As these things take years to see
I bequeath you to history’s misery,
Let go, surface at another hour, still.

I fear, many lifetimes from here,
So, a blessing to cocoon a soul
That waits, in perpetuity, for love.

Simon Heathcote 2019

https://medium.com/literally-literary/old-age-a-poem-ec401afbff1a