My Mother was three different people.
She was my Mummy when I was small.
My comfort, my advisor
My All.
Teaching wrong from right
In the language of kindness
Vanquishing monsters in the night
And mending broken skin
With kisses
She was distant and hollow
As I grew and didn’t need her
And didn’t follow
where she expected me to go
And then she thought she knew me
Just as I began to find myself
she tore me down
she wore me out
I know I hurt her
With my words.
But she crossed the line
This life was mine
Not hers
Then she
Became my child
I kept her safe
A place of care
I put her there
It was all that I could do
and I knew
that I was right
I am glad
that her body and her mind
both went together
It was sad
But we could see
She
was content –
not one part fighting with the other
She gave me time
To ponder and reflect
And reconnect
And understand
And at the end
I held her hand.
I lost three people when I lost my Mother
©Amanda Samm (Draft. Mother’s Day 2019)