When I write as a poet sometimes I use real things which have happened sometimes reporting them faithfully and sometimes having to convey an emotion or essence. In this poem the mother undoubtedly loved the little girl her daughter. But the death of her son was so devastating she could only struggle to survive her grief, hence sending her daughter away to be cared for.
I only ever wanted a family
To belong, to love
To share
Not this. Not this despair
My first born, My…
Everything.
My baby, my child, my boy…
We came through the war
Why now? Why again?
Why do my children die?
Broken, I am broken…
The oven door open
The gas taps on
Then… the cry.
‘Mammy’
I turn, not now,
Not now.
My pain it overwhelms
Me
‘Mammy, Mammy’.
I smell her hair,
I touch her skin.
Why do I not feel
Anything…
For her?
I’m numb, surrounded
By cotton wool
Separate.
I need to go
Pack the bag,
Take the small hand
And to the train
As…I try to ignore
My pain.
I pass her to my Aunt
And return
To the empty house
And sit… and stare
And… stare
Read anything
I can find
Repeat, and repeat
The empty words.
It’s all I’ve got
To distract my mind.
Print available to purchase in A4 on recycled fine art paper £15 https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/HollyRuanneDraws
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