My life sit's, precariously,on the edge of a dark void,
I am a mother, grandmother, and I was a daughter,
The world I live in is cosy, safe, benign,
until I'm tossed on an emotional tidal wave,
and washed up on rocks of harsh reality,
as I was, when my mother died, but I survived.
I get lost in memories of my granddaughters birth,
and am swamped by my daughter's misery deserted by love,
hoping she can find the strength to carry on alone,
worrying that she may never see the love in her baby's eyes,
or eat, or sleep or breath, without tears ever again,
maybe, when her pain has died, she will survive.