Asleep by Anonymous (17, California)*

My mother pretended to be asleep beside me, 
Hiding her face from mine. 
But still I felt her tremors run through the bed, covers rippling 
With quiet grief. 
                For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord (Jeremiah 29:11). ​

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I could not understand this sea she waded—only knew that 
Hope was a treacherous thing for giving 
An immigrant family with nothing but three hundred dollars and a camera
A dream of tantalizing promise. 
                Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some (John 21:6).
But when my mother’s dreams cracked like mirrors, 
She found herself back to dust, resenting 
This broken world that was never meant for us. 

If by lying beside you I can feel a fraction of your sorrow, I whispered,
Then God’s heart must be breaking. 
And what God in heaven whose heart is good 
Would only answer in silence? 
                He was moved with compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless (Matthew 9:36). 

Finally, my mother shifted—  
Thanked me, and drew me close. 
And I wondered 
If both of us were lying, denying 
That suffering was just suffering, pain just pain, 
Telling ourselves stories about a God we wanted to believe in, giving ourselves another
Dream to keep us from waking, another dream to conceal in its dark fold,
Unspoken rage. 
                Lord, teach us to pray (Luke 11:1).

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