Sometimes I still see her as the enemy
She makes me feel the pain as something real
raw
and bottomless
I try to numb her with
savory treats and
endless distractions
only to feel her shift restlessly
stifled
but not silenced
She will not leave me in peace
There is the rare occasion when I am strong enough to embrace her
crumpled
heaving form
She can grieve then with dignity
She can survive the barrenness of winter and hope for spring again
Hope
It's like trying to assimilate a foreign language
I grasp at the word but find it ever elusive
Always evading my short swollen hands
But spring seems so far
Too far from my freezing heart
I ice over again
She suffers alone
Her silent wails wake me in the early morning hours when it is still dark outside
Her snotty sobs slip me into an exhausted sleep at night
I am on the defence
or offence
I'm not strong enough for this
I'm not strong enough to take care of this withering, dependent, grieving child
I'm not ready to be a mother.
It's then I realise I suffer from a horrible affliction
An inability to nurture myself.
...me
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This is brilliant, magnificent and wonderful. It is also raw, naked and painful. It is the truest thing I have read in some while. It is the closest any real written thing has come to my heart in even longer. Please don't stop Court! Your words take us places within we would never reach without them. This is beautiful and so are you =)
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