Sticky Survival..........Childhood Memories.....Mum Poem by karen sinclair
Sticky Survival..........Childhood Memories.....Mum
Mum
Sat hugging the Red Bible on your life-station
The sofa....
But never reading it....not since our loss
Eyes raise as i enter, as two solemn pools of acceptance
Resignation,
You are in your forever spot
Now
Till your lonesome end
Slowly mellowing a large round hole in the butt cushion
Gazing out on rooftops that glisten with no intent
You dear mother in your solitude depression agony
Are hellbent
To pursue doctors advice
Pills and appointments
Each time gravely escaping....dreaded death
To watch grey soap operas
No significance
To the real...The living
Occasionally you sit in judgement
On which soapstar is behaving badly
Cheap and tacky
Which surprises me mother.....
That you....
Who dragged all of our names through newspapers
Court judgements
And cells of black bars and worst of all
Our bloody school
Where the grey matter of teachers and children alike
Children just like we.....
At the time
We were so small in the playground
where the wind whistled lies and truth between
Flowing scarves and tongues
As Valerie announced for all and sundry
Your Mothers gone to prison...again
Pro...sti...tu...tion..........HAHAHA!
I never knew
As the words and wet rain slapped my face and heart
i didn't know what one of those were
But I'd heard my mum was a tart
I hid in the toilets and sobbed, i truly sobbed that my beautiful
and you was so beautiful
Mum...
The one i pursued for hugs
That you should bruise our family so unfortunately
I understand why you no longer leave your room
And sit in judgement with those awfully pain_filled eyes
And yet
You still judge?
hi bob... i now watch two sisters metally ill due to her and our fathers actions so i owe her nothing...what i wrote really is the tip of the iceburg..
I'm sorry, so sorry that you had such a dreadful time of it. I can understand what you must have gone through at school as for different reasons, my childhood is marred by bad memories of school and other places. A poignant tale but sad, so sad....
Honesty that few dare ever to open with the living present. Hard hitting, brutal and yet with a pity that within the caring imagery of eyes and mood and self imposed confinement or imprisonment cannot comprehend the gusto of aggrieved indignation that as a child and children you were exposed to and wrung through. The realisation, the betrayal, the heart destroying reality and repulsion, the stigma and isolation, and yet you enter that room, and the condemned shrunken by choices and circumstance still judges and remotely controls through indignation and self loathing. The fruit never falls far from the tree but seeds may blow and wash and establish with strength and beauty, far far away.
I`m hurting for your memories Karen, I hope you are happy now, Thank you for allowing us to share your pain.
Hi darling...this made me cry as i know where you came from xxx
The images you bring to view are powerful and revealing..Perhaps some form of forgiveness would give solace and comfort. A moving and disturbing write
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 12:35:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Very moving story, well expressed. I have my own mother story - you may like to read mine entitled Lament.