We have not loved like other people.
It is messy.
Harsh words are spoken here.
Judgment flaps back and forth
A damp wash in the maelstrom of our anger.
There is calm
but there is rarely communion.
As things are forgotten
the truth is uncovered.
It is there that we taste love.
In this brief moment
between remembering
and forgetfulness.
It is difficult for both of us
One day she will see a stranger
I will see myself as that stranger
In my mother's eyes.
And who will I be then?
This poem has blossomed beautifully. So poignant.
ReplyDeleteThank you JP. There are parts of it that still feel unsettled. But for now it is enough to get out that big thing that blocked me.
ReplyDeleteI am glad that you are back. I love reading what you write.
ReplyDelete