Each peach pear plum
A few things about my mum.
Heavy-hearted, what to say?
will she live another day?
Little Mrs. Pepperpot, shrinking to doll size
Bitzer Maloney, all skinny and boney
except her dear hateful belly, humpty-dumpty like
Walking on knives smiling through the laceration
telling stories in the face of the dark
a sea of tears
all those lost mothers and motherless children
a needle of ice in the heart
the nightingale singing, bleeding into the rose
white to red
Sweetness and horror
Comfort and loss
Joy and pain
Growth
Life
Death
Redemption
the fairy stories helped us learn when we were little
and then we learn all over again
Like the Cheshire Cat
- there's not much left of her except her smile.
Where to stop? heavy hearted
How soon will we be parted?
A poetry blog started in a time of crisis, pain and loss (thats when the poetry flows!). Restarted now in the context of chronic disease. Life, eh?!
Friday, March 23, 2007
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This disease
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1 comment:
I like that, and I know it has soothed your heat to write it.
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