futile thoughts

Being a daughter isn't easy either you know
don't tell me how tough being a parent is
what sort of bloody parent were you anyway?
The words burble up and almost break loose
but thank goodness I just turn and walk away
can you imagine the fallout if I say what I think
and the hurt from finally facing the truth of it.

It's too easy to have an ideal view of this
the wish list is so long and still growing
the kind of parent I wanted to have
well it's like those letters to Santa isn't it?
I wanted someone warm who knew how to play
and to cuddle and make the bad things go away
and knew that a bandaid was for more than just cuts.

I wanted someone who'd come to school plays
and walk with me slowly just watching the trains
or possibly stand still whilst I held your hand.
I wanted to feel you were even sometimes there
and not gazing off in that medicated stare
that spoke of depression and deep dark despair
I wish I'd known where you went in your head.

I guess I should forgive you time and again
for I know you aren't strong and weren't back then
could you know what was happening to me or to him.
And no amount of soul searching can ever deny
that you are my mother but a parent hmm not sure
If a parent is biology then it's certainly true
but love, protection, I hardly think so .. do you?

And as I help you to bed and find your pyjamas
I think how strange being a daughter is now
for I am trying to be for you how I've always wished
you had been for me those many years ago
A time we don't talk about still, but never mind
It's time for you to get into your bed now
I'll sit here and read while you drop off to sleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment