40) Regression
The warmth of your hands,
The pitch of your voice,
I try to remember,
Mother, it hurts.
Your understanding smile,
Your comforting lap,
I miss, I cry, still
Mother, it hurts.
A woman, her care
And selfless love,
I forever search,
Mother, it hurts.
In every woman, I try
To find you, but impurity,
It scares me,
Mother, it hurts.
An unknown child wakes in me,
Don’t be away, hold me tight,
Make him sleep,
Mother, he hurts.
1 comment:
1> Regression
This one I still find a bit difficult to write about, even though it’s just about my growing up, even though I want to keep the child in me fully alive. Along with age come unpleasant revelations and difficulties in relating to women in my Victorian or maybe Calvinistic home town culture.
Post a Comment