My Mom

This one is for my mom
who worries about me
when she reads my sad poems.

She's a mother bear,
ready to maul anyone
who would try to hurt me.

But what is she supposed to do
when I seek out my own pain
and revel in it?

Her precious cub
has wandered off
and tends to mope.

But she manages to love me,
to love my sad words
fiercely, from afar.

I want to tell her that
I'm happy being sad - I'm happiest
when sad words come together in a poem.

I wish my sad wouldn't make her sad.
I wish my happy could make her happy,
but in every case she loves me.