Barbara Boyd | + Follow Poet |
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Nervous

Oh, I'm so nervous,
So full of doubt: she's coming home and
I can only shout,
"No, I'm not ready!"
Please hear me out:
You are a child,
Then an elder,
Then infant again.
You are my mother,
I, your daughter
Then it gets all switched around
Only to come back 
To the ends of beginnings.

Some tell me, "Detach."
They say, "Pretend you're not the daughter
Pretend you are Just A Caregiver.
Pretend
You have no bond.
After all, you Must Survive!"

Too much history, 
Too much blood: she gave me life,
She gave me breath,
She watched me walk, then stumble
Then fall,
Get back up so I could be tall
(like her).

(How can I pretend this didn't happen?).

For now she shuffles,
My ancient elder,
Shuffles
Then stops
Then walks toward me,
Crying out, her arms out wide,
"No more walker! The hell with that!
I'm free! I'm free!
Just leave me Be!

I AM NOT, AFTER ALL,
93!"

(oh, I am so nervous).

Copyright © Barbara Boyd | Year Posted 2014

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Karen Anglesey Date: 2/3/2014 4:51:00 PM Hi Barbara, my mother made it to age 82. I was with her quite often through the final stages of her illness. The decline in ability to care for herself, the walker and then the death bed. I was very nervous too. A glass of wine can be helpful at times. I really related to your poem Login to Reply

David Williams Date: 1/25/2014 1:51:00 PM Barbara the worries of child / parent then reversing will never go away, keep a bottle of wine handy...David Login to Reply Barbara Boyd Date: 1/27/2014 10:41:00 AM David- thank you for your reply. I've already got the wine covered..I laughed when you wrote that, and as you say, IT JUST WON'T GO AWAY...thanks again, barbaraboyd

Frederic Parker Date: 1/13/2014 12:42:00 PM life has its own cruel mirror, some chose to look in and see, others turn away,when you chose to see its reflection it is then you see who you truly are....This was my thoughts as I read your poem Login to Reply Barbara Boyd Date: 1/13/2014 12:49:00 PM Frederic-thank you for your comment. I have spent much of my life not looking in the mirror and sometimes, at moments, I still cannot because the hurt is unbearable. but I am looking more now. thank you, barbaraboyd