There was a porch swing then,
When you were a little one
full of life and cheekiness.
I would sit with you
in my round, warm arms and sing to you
rocking back and forth, up and down in the heat
of a summer of biscuited, brown grassed days.
It feels a lifetime away and surely it is …..
“all thirty one” says the inner timekeeperof my pining heart.
…..and my eyes stood on blood red
stalks once again,
as the tornado of words and emotions
ripped through my heart……
“Now I have MRSA, mum.
I have to wash clothes, bedding and towels
EVERY day until it’s gone.”
Speechless but not tearless I felt
the panic that only a mother knows.
As if she needed yet another trial
to challenge her life and those of
her young, wildly sweet children.
As if Chiari 1 Malfomation weren’t enough,
as if Life couldn’t just sqeeze a break for her
out of the tube we all roll around in……
I wanted to bang my head against the cottage wall.
I wanted…. I still want….. to make it all go away,
as any mother would……
A Snowflake of Joy
Thousands of airmiles,
the turbulent Atlantic sea
so very far away
from my stretched out arm.
Raise your eyes
from the floor
and at all times,
find the joy.
Shout if you must,
there is always a snowflake of joy
somewhere to be had…..