Not in the consulting room
does heart break
but in the footsteps walking away
in the closing of the car door.
Would you find me in the deepest valley,
the ease of sleep unbounded,
or softly walking alongside?
The torrents dry
and deserts return;
is there sweetness in an empty road?
Every other beat of my heart forever;
you will never come to be
‘As a mother’ and other
phrases of daggers;
build a ten foot wall in-between
I have a yoga room in my house
I turn my head away
when prams roll by,
at babies’ cry,
at invitations, congratulations
The screaming agony of birth never to be
Because I couldn’t make you exist,
not even for a second,
the meaning of everything
tumbles, tumbles away
Hand in hand through meadows of flowers;
warmth of sun and laughter.
You can be perfect:
no earthly woes or weariness
will ever touch you.
Just running, gambolling along,
smiling up at me;
your mother who never was.
The idyllic can meet my pain
and create with it
a paradise of daydreams.
To a life unlived, unseen
what can I give?
To live as if I am precious too
To live as I am precious too
Primrose