Sunday, 10 March 2013

The Mother

A great deal has been written about the circle of life and dependency; how with age the parent becomes the child and the child the parent. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, when my mother was still alive but increasingly frail. My sister and I were worried that she wasn't the woman she had been, her fragility was unfamiliar and even alien to us. But no lapse of memory or loss of capability dilutes parenthood. I realised you can never truly lose that sense of having been carried or nurtured; of having been mothered, or fathered. We really are all somebody's baby, no matter how old. It makes some sense that when you look into a very aged face you may glimpse the infant within us all.
I was very upset when I wrote this poem, but now I find it comforting. I know I disappointed my mother in many ways; now I understand that every obstacle I overcome, every sadness I comprehend and every joy I appreciate is as much a tribute to my mother and father as my first steps.

There's a weakness within,
almost malignantly foetal;
it rips us at the middle.
Mother I am so much yours, 
more than flesh and blood;
my thumb-print is on the photo
you signed to my father as "sweetheart".
I kick at your sides even now,
your labour is long overdue;
now my kisses unsettle your hairspray,
but you birth me everyday.



  1. Gigi, very poignant. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.

    1. Well, thanks for reading Colleen! I hope you had a gorgeous Mother's Day. You certainly deserve it my dear x

  2. It is said God created Mothers to spread His love everywhere.

    Happy Mother's Day.

    God bless.

    1. God bless you and your family too Victor x

  3. Beautiful Gigi, we are all mothers in some shape or form Happy Mothers Day hun xx

    1. Love to you and Mary too. God bless Chrissie xx