Sunday, 14 April 2013


Images held tenderly
Of the kind of mother I wanted to be,
Of the kind of mother I thought I should be,
Are shattered.
I try and pick up the pieces
Blending them together with a mix of porridge and glue
But the picture they make has a shape of its own
Like someone has photo-shopped it until it resembles
A Salvador Dali Painting.

So I go for a walk Listening to my Ipod
A funny mix of music from the past and the present
Becomes a soundtrack to my thoughts
As I pine for the past while celebrating the present
Planning for the future which may never be.

How come they never told me
I would have to let my children go
On their own paths?
Paths that don’t fit with my hopes and dreams
Paths that will be rocky and paths that only lead to crossroads
Where decisions must be made
Decisions which might lead to broken bones
And broken hearts?

What if we could change things and choose a time to go back to,
Working with the wisdom of hindsight,
If we could wipe out the bad bits and start again?
We can’t, though.
We can only start here and now, and still with no guarantees
We can only set them free and
Barrack from the sidelines
With all our might.

Sue Oaks 2013