Bendith y Mamau

Such as have deserved
Their mama’s blessing
But not received it

Have been known to haunt
Twilight fens and cribs
In dark rooms at night.

No, they don’t exist.
That’s the point of them.
When comfort there is

None, when answers aren’t
Available or
Meaningful enough

To assuage your pain,
The nonexistent,
Malignant agent

Sums up how the world
Truly operates.
When you can’t say why

Nor even how loss
Carved wounds in your thoughts,
The only agents

Possible to blame
Fairly are the ones
All absence themselves,

Such as have deserved
Their mother’s blessing
And not received it.