Mother

For my mother, and all the mothers, and their mothers too

You’ll understand, they say,

When you’re married one day,

When you have kids of your own,

When you’re a mother too.

But when your life is

One prolonged scream,

All I did was reach for you again,

Not see anything of myself in you.

I was too busy with my own pain

To see any true reflection

Of all that you had done.

To equate your quiet successes

With my constant failing,

Falling over my feet,

Always and ever still running

To you with all my messes.

So when my father was gone one day,

And stroke had replace his bluster

And his quiet, stoic love

With a truculent child,

You didn’t flinch once,

You never even stumbled.

And it’s only now I realise

How you did that and smiled.

Only now my children are grown,

And making their own ways,

Only now I see you in them,

And realise the gifts you gave me.

Only now, when we both

Have time at last to heal,

Maybe even to grieve a little,

Can I appreciate all you really give me.

In the picture are me, my mother, her mother, and her mother too. I love how proud my mum is to be there.