Kim Whysall-Hammond, Poem

Let me tell you about my mother
about silences and love withheld

the need to communicate
and the need to escape

longing to be praised for what I had achieved
not for the compliant proper girl I had never been

we kept things light for a long while
sharing shoes and a love of good dressing

At the end she didn’t want me
at the end I failed to grieve for her

stood silent at the wake as strangers told me
of the lovely lady who made them want to love her

bereft of my mother for years
I was wounded once more at her death