Poetry ***

The overwhelming sense I get it that we’re not doing enough
We step around him
Make room for him
Think for him when he forgets to eat
Drugs and talk therapy are killing my son
He needs a hammer, first to harm, and then to make
He needs a shovel, first to batter and then to dig
He needs fresh fruit and grains from the garden
He needs a hug
Don’t let him see you weak
Don’t let him see you cry
Let him see you bigger than your shadow and willing to fight
He told me one day, casually on one of our walks
Mum, I’ve been thinking about killing you
I was just grateful he felt safe to say the words
Many a bruise, many a descent into resignation
But it’s my boy
Soon to be a man
He will not kill me
Motherhood sharpens the reflexes
I’ve fought him off before
I’ll fight him off again
And the rage he has is no different from mine
And searching for someone on which to lay the blame…
I just know one day he will meet his match
And when he does
I’ll be there