No Glory In Battle

Being a child,
I'm reminded of a time
When my own mother
Would Tongue-In-Cheek
Whisper about the ascension
Of death
And the hell on earth
When she forgot
To take her medicine.

And this glorious time,
When I almost forgot that
A child of my own
Existed
And I alone was teacher her
Lessons that possibly executed
The reasons she died.
I killed her-
Clutching,
Scraping,
Twisting,
Spooned out with a ladel,
And no one will ever know.

But how was I to know
Such an error was a sin
To the mother, To myself.