Catch up

So, I'm gradually putting all my poetry down on something other than scraps of paper. Many of the poems I have written were from a decade ago or more. Many were written whilst mourning my mum, who died when I was 19. Many were written for my husband and many about my son. Some were just for me. I am a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mum - both by birth and adoption. I am a human slave serving my cats. I am friend and I am a nurse. But most of all I'm just me - so lost, but so forgiven. These posts are my words, some you may love and some you may hate. My only hope is to make you smile a little from time to time and hope that you can see the truth, the pain and the love behind my words. xx

I've been there too!

"You don't understand!" -
I don't mind you saying it,
but the thing that hurts most
is the fact that I do understand -
more than most.

You only see a nurse
but I am a person
and I have lost a parent too.
I know the hurt,
the anger and the pain.

You come and visit,
hoping that she will be well,
trying to will her better -
but she is dying
and you can't stop that
and it hurts.

You feel angry -
she isn't the person you used to love,
she has changed
but you love her still and always will.

You're scared that she won't be there
when you need her.
You're scared because she is leaving
and never coming back.

So,
you see,
I'm not just a nurse
in a uniform.
I am a child
who lost her mother too
and
I do understand

Happy Birthday. (Sept 2003)

 Happy Birthday

Jamie is one year old today.
One whole year old.
He is so different now
from this time last year.
He says
HIYA
MUM
and
DAD.
He's toddling too -
causing chaos
wherever he goes.
So much to see and do!
He is so nosy -
just like me!
What a difference
a year can make.
He is a proper little boy now -
not a baby anymore

Motherhood. September 2002

I miss you -
possibly more than ever,
for I am a mother too now
and I want you to be here.

I wish you could see
your beautiful grandson -
so tiny and fragile
so helpless
yet so perfect
in every way.

The love I feel is
overwhelming -
just like my grief
for you.

I thought that I was done with crying
but now
I realise
there is so much more
that you can never tell me.
So much
that I can never ask.

But, for now, I go.
I need to go to him.
I must tend to him
because he is here,
needing me.
Just as I once needed you.