Lamentations of a Mom at Thanksgiving

How lonely sits the table that was full of people,

And how unclean the kitchen has become.

For it is the end of the day,

And the splendor and cleanliness she labored all the hours of the day to attain

Has departed and collapsed

At the hands of her daughters and sons.

She sighs and turns away,

This woman who was once exhalted and surrounded by pleasant things,

And finds her eyes filled with tears

As she gazes upon the uncleanness

And the vileness therein.

She has become but a slave

Dwelling amongst the ungrateful and slothful in her house

Cleaning the places of assembly that look as though they have been destroyed

By the hand of an enemy who left on the carpet something with an appearance blacker than soot.

She cries out to them,

"Come here, unclean! Come here, here, HERE!"

Yet they fled and wandered, leaving her to gaze upon the desolation and destruction

With no hand to help her.

But soon, they return to her in hunger and thirst saying,

"Where is the grain and the juice?"

Yet as she presents the bread and the drink, they reject her toils of the stove

with blasphemes such as,

"What is this green stuff that lies upon my plate?" and

"Must we eateth this again?"

"Well then, let your mouth taste the dust of the earth,

and may you sit alone and keep silent!" she says, thinking,

"Why, oh Lord, have you delivered me into the hands

Of those I am not able to withstand?"

But, as the Day of Thanksgiving approaches,

The spirit of love and compassion for those she hath borne

overtakeths her soul.

She decides to put aside the ridicule of her children

And their taunting songs of "She looketh at me!" and

"I am going to telleth on you!"

And she casts their iniquities from her heart

As she pardons those who have transgressed and rebelled against her.

So, she stuffeths the bird, masheth the potatoes and placeth the marshmallows in the yams,

For it is a time of gratefulness and feasting and watching the large men taunt and block each other as a Bear (or Dolphin, Ram or Raider) who has been lying in wait

And prays that those whom she has borne and brought up

Will not pierce her heart with their arrows of ridicule of the food she has worked hard to prepare.

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