Flawed Woman

I know a woman who has many flaws
Of her many flaws, two are glaring

One, she loves too much and when she loves she gives her whole self
Her last clothing
Her last meal
Her entirety to secure the other, she gives
Her security as she picks up arms and defends even one who is at fault
A spear, she takes on behalf of the other
But what makes this flaw so grave is that of those she loves, few love her back
So they do not give her their clothing
Nor their last meal
Nor all that they have to secure her
Nor do they pick up arms and defend her, indeed they attack when suitable
Nor will they take a spear on her behalf; indeed they scoot so that she can fall on one
While those of us who love her stare on.

Two, she cares too much and when she cares she gives her whole being
She gives anything to relieve the other
She rejoices with those who rejoice
She mourns with those who mourn
She aches when the other is in pain
A sleepless night of fasting and prayer she renders on behalf of the other
But what makes this flaw so grave is that of those she cares for, few care for her
So they do not part with their things to relieve her
Nor do they rejoice with her when she rejoices, indeed they are jealous of her
Nor do they mourn with her when she mourns, indeed they contend that her loss is befitting
Nor do they ache when she’s in pain; indeed they are the source of a number of them
While those of us who love her stare on.

We are the spectators, vying for her attention
Vying for her love and care, all to no avail
Instead she berates us
Takes from us and gives to them
We who love her suffer from her and suffer for her
But we know that those she loves too much do not love her like we do
And those she cares for too much do not care for her like we do
Surely, one day their acts will exonerate us
But for now those of us who love her stare on.