mother
please
i have prayed
and prayed
and
prayed
for solace of the softest kind.
of honey-sweet retribution.
i am
pressed,
palms down
to blue-cold tile.
a statuesque relic
of pity-poor faith.
the stars have no answers.
unwavering,
blinking down with soft set eyes.
there is no salvation here
for sin wrought skin.
when god does not answer
the devil finds me in the depths of the night
lays my head in his lap
and rocks me to sleep.
mama
i ask
are we who we are
or what we’re made to be?
About the Author
Brook Jessup is a first-year student currently pursuing a Psychology degree at Selkirk College. She has lived her whole life in Salmo, BC. Born with a knack for writing and wildly opinionated, Brook develops a lot of her pieces around real-world issues and inequalities. In her free time, she is often with her dog, her horse, or writing in her bed.
