Asked my personal volcano to be our duty
tornado: the intrigue – grey haired mother’s
cold and ill in an age-care home; hairdresser
says no more dyeing, hair too soft and thin
causing it to break off
Alone among frail and infirm mother is tired,
needs to retire to my sister’s home with a
kitchen and friends, my dad and sunshine –
volcanic sister flares into tornado-motion,
ready to sweep in and rescue mother
I promise my beloved I’ll not also change
into a fury under my stormy, can-do sister’s
onslaught, I intend to work hard on keeping
my promise while assisting mother away
from too much sorrow…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem