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A Poem for my Late Mother

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I miss you
I miss your overwhelming, overriding knowledge
Your greater wisdom,
Your superiority.
I miss you
I miss the way you make me feel dumb and special all at once,
And unworthy and unworldly
And not enough.
Never enough.
I miss you

Not enough years or experience
Not a deep enough depression
Not a bad enough time.
A broken back was nothing compared to your plight
A gun against the head a mere nothingness
A nonentity
A trivial pursuit
A meagre dot
A blight to be set aside
A you made your own bed so lie in it
An I don't need this
A Don won't take this.
I miss you

No protection
No mother bear
No instinct
No fair

And here we are again
And again
And again
Never ending cycle of insurmountable unachievable expectations.
Never old enough
Not wise enough
Not mature enough...
Not old enough...
That day will never come.

I will always and forever be your little unprotected overprotected anxiety provoking utterly neglected never wash your hair or your hands or your knees child.

Ingrained dirt like the stains of your sins
Of your cousins and the stranger with the secret and the lovers and the sitters.
I miss you

The denial of the happenings and denial of the children
Cos you've done it all before and you brought it on yourself
And I never had the help, though your memories may differ
And my mother and my father did fuck all but always were there
To pick up the broken pieces and to mend the fractured feelings
With mean soap suds and warm fires.
I miss you

 

You missed out on so many things
So much love and so much caring
And sharing of experience of firsts and lasts and smiles
And you lost
You were the loser.
I miss you

I was taught by another mother
I learnt to love, to care, to nurture and cherish and nourish and protect
By another mother
Not of blood but of love
No favouritism here
No you know how we feels
No you can't have the orange
You can't have the coconut cake
No sad cakes here
No burnt gingerbread.
And as my own brood grew and bred
The love did multiply and spread like a warm glow across the plains
And spread and spread and spread
But never thinned
And now you're gone
And I feel sad.
I miss you

I hate that you missed out on so fucking much.
I miss you.

Death of a parentlovemissingmum

◄ Poem for the Babysitter, Pete.

A poem for my late father, Bernard. ►

Comments

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Jain Gawne

Mon 6th Jan 2020 18:48

Thanks once again ?

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