Later at the same address
A storm of words reaches flood stage
A couch is bobbing in the currents
towards its mangled ruin-nexus
of matchsticks in cyclonic flow
among the renegade
trash
hanging
from the limbs like tinsel

Meanwhile
chair heaved through her door
Like the river
I am not above my rage
at this stage
of more than enough....
Clever daughter's got my goat
Turns my words on dimes
Lays into me
her score of blame
Each blow to drop me further

presses all my buttons at one time
despite the flashing
Warning! Warning!

“Fine! Fine!”

She blows-out through the afternoon
right past me
in a torrent of curses
A stubborn perfect storm
of words
has taken out parental dam
and blown out toward the Bay of Freedom
to the sorrows of her day

The river may crack its whip
But its got nothing on her

nothing is left standing
in her way

I see you standing there
I can see the pain masked by a smile
I can see how broken you are

I want to help you
I want to make you feel wanted
I want to make you happy

But I don't know how
I don't know what to do
I don't know how to act

I wish I could help you
I want to help you
I can help you

I've been through this
I know how this works
I know how I got through this

Maybe I can heal those scars on your wrist
I just want you to open up
I need you to open up

I know that it is hard
I understand what this means
I might not understand completely

I can try to understand
I will understand
I just need you to trust me

Please
Let Me
Help You

Don't
Shut Me
Out

Who are we these people who sit with words
And an audience of silent poetic spectators
Day after day we need to write to be heard
For there is no where else that these words
Can be said, read, understood.

Our country, and habitat matter not
For we are like invisible spirits
Sending out messages
Philosophical statements
Because politics has failed
There is no representative
For the majority.

Our words a last plunge
For freedom
In a world of autocracy.
So we dive deep
Swim out against the waves
Floating in waters of truce
Hoping that we can
Make a difference
However small
To enlighten,
Comfort
And share
The best we can find
Of our humanity.

Love Mary xxxx

She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze

old man I see you
blue suit and bow tie
and hat placed neatly aside
cradling your coffee
an absentminded gaze
through the tall windows
and beyond
to the young passersby
in a hurry
as you once were
busily home to love
to soothe the withering day
love that you once had
but has passed
old man I see you
your eyes a fluid blue
still
wistful
locked in memory
bittersweet
vivid
that plays before you
to touch
taste
breathe
a pas de deux of passion
eclipsed by time
old man I see you
and you are not alone

her ring sits on the mantlepiece
worn thin on one side
that dull warm yellow
that gold sometimes takes on

i remember it cutting into my hand
as she held it tightly as we shopped
it was bright and shiny then

she used to wear it on her  longest finger
after dad left us, she left it off for awhile
and then wore it on the other hand

it was tight on her workworn hands then
she took it off again before she went into
this last home, but kept it locked in a security draw

now it sits on the mantlepiece, waiting
for me to find a safe place for it
for it is the little bit of my mother's spirit
that will one day be part of my son's  wedding ring,