Poems from writing retreat

Mum

Her home in two places can be

One her family, is she?

The other a mother.

Life can be smothered

I ritual suffered.

Her fresh bread dedication

A clean house meditation.

Church and then home

Regulated, lovingly grown.

I fail.

I fail the ‘I do’s.’

I fail to choose.

I’m wanting more

I’m taking it all.

She is not me.

By SB

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