It's Not Fair

My mom was simply wonderful.
She had a magic touch.
And mother loved my father too.
She loved him very much.

I never heard mom say a word
when dad would spend the funds -
though mom had many stressful days
to feed her hungry sons.

Recalling often all the ways
that she conceived a meal -
concoctions never mixed before,
ingredients unreal.

One bite would be like chewing foam,
the next so leather tough -
while I and brothers sitting there
would have to eat the stuff.

But weight upon the shoulders from
abuse is very great.
I think I have much empathy
but how can I relate?

I heard the whimpering at times.
I sometimes saw the tears.
It's so unfair to have such love
and then to persevere.

So many things are left unsaid.
What more must I explain?
Have I hurt someone like my mom?
Have I caused someone pain?

Who loves me more than mom loved dad?
What else is there to know?
How many tears does Christ still shed
because He loves me so?

This poem won first place for the April 2018 poetry contest