Your Mother Yourself

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Tue, 25 Feb 2014
  • 3440 reads
12 comments
 
You ring the doorbell three times;
finally she opens it. Opposite,
in the bathroom, you notice water
still in the tub from the night before.
Choose not to mention it, nor indeed
the urine stains on the rug, nor 
that her bed is still unmade. 
 
You, and things important to you,
have become inconsequential 
to your mother, who makes no such
judgements or assumptions on
your life...not anymore.
 
She says she is going to read,
do the crossword, perhaps...take
a nap, after – asks if you mind.  
You tell her, no...go ahead, you’ll
put the kettle on.  Instead, wander
through the house – once so familiar 
feels alien, now.
 
Your old room – labelled, Guest Room;
empty shelves, gathering dust.  Gone
The Secret Garden, Under Plum Lake – 
places you’d escaped to
in your childhood.
 
Blue, flocked pansies - walls, closing in
on you where your posters were;
Broken Glass, Flash-dance
and Dirty Dancing.  Tallboy drawers
empty – reeking mothballs once full
of your tights, first-bras, and panties 
perfumed with sachets from inserts
in Jackie. 
 
Every trace of you is gone – even
the picture over the mantelpiece;
the one you’d painted for your exam,
the one your dad once said was better 
than anything by Degas or even Monet
and more precious to him, by a mile.
 
That was all you’d ever wanted
from her; the unconditional love
he’d given to you as a child, and 
he’d gone, much too soon.
 
The day not far away you would,
have to broach the subject of a home 
with her...sheltered housing, if she’d prefer. 
She couldn’t live with you; it would be out 
of the question, and you feel sorry for her, 
but only to a degree; that remove
her legacy.
Certificate 12
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
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Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

A poignantly sad piece, sadness of the present failing, sadness at the past lacks. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

In a nutshell, Rhiannon. In a nutshell.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

Tina, this has a weight to it, which I can feel.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, so much, Bee.  Succinctly put.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Yet another poem I could so relate to Tina.

Poingnant in many ways...but honest and spoken from the heart.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, so very much, Jenny.  Much appreciatedsmiley

Hope your Wednesday is a pleasant one.

Tina

 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Tina

This was a poem that few would not identify with - either as the mother or the grown up child.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Many thanks, Jean, and you are so very right.

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

There's an unspoken exchange rate and this poem lays it all out on the mother/child balance pans. If you had loved me the way I needed then, I could accommodate you to my own detriment now. Unconditional and unreserved maternal love is actually so rare! The minefield that we tread carefully over as adults until the blasts start and guilt chasms open to swallow us neatly up. A deep poem that makes emptiness painfully obvious.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Your take on this poem, as ever, Vera, is spot on. Thank you for sharing your insight, integrity, and empathy.

Tina

 

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello Tina,

I think this is  a poem that speaks of longing for maternal love  that is perhaps only realised when the mother is the one in  need.   But as mothers we ha v e to muddle through as best we can.  We get no training and we often get it wrong.  For myself I can only say I  follow my instincts and hope for the best. This is something i feel very strongly about as I have long thought motherhood is undervalued in our society but  i think it is th e most important job a  woman can do to take proper care of another vulnerable human being.  If motherhhood was a job in industry would she do that job with no training?  I think not. 

Sorry for the rant.  That aside this is a very poignant poem that touches on unresolved issues as expressed so cleverly in the title.

Moya

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

It is always so very rewarding hearing your thoughts, Moya.  You express them so eloquently and it is no surprise that writing is indeed your forte. You always look so deeply inside the poem, and are able to see what makes it tick...the mechanics of it...the nuts and bolts.  You also have amazing intuition, and it sounds somewhat crass to say 'you read between the lines', but that is just what you are able to do.  Glad you liked the title, by the way.  I find it is often the last thing noticed, but vitally important, nonetheless, but you spot them, every time.

So very many thanks, Moya, and I really do mean that.

Tina