Pity

Pity is not for the weak,
perhaps, not right for the strong.
Then, maybe, for the realistic
who know
nothing better will come:

a son whose mother is crazy,
who could never accept or allow
his beliefs or his education
for which
she'd be damned if she would ever pay.

The life she initially began
with hope
and also for some recognition,
brought deep regret.
In the end, she believed herself shamed.

Her suffering brought on a kind of madness
and a virulent mouthing of hate.
Least of all
could she stand her son's pity:
the one blow her pride couldn't take.