Hill Holler

And I won’t believe you if you say you can’t spare 60 seconds in your day to try this short video of mine, both written and narrated by me. If you really can’t, you’re the very person that needs this most.
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A little on the dark side with a twist in the tail is the way I’d describe Changed Days Indeed . It’s hard to find a single answer when I’m asked what this poem’s about.

It’s about how ancient relationships can still cast a shadow over us despite the passage of time. How easily unresolved emotions can be rekindled with something as simple as a glance. How no matter how much a person changes or improves themselves in life, there’s always someone unwilling to acknowledge that. I guess too that it demonstrates the saying ” the best revenge is a life well lived.”

I said there wasn’t a single answer, I never promised you a short one, ha! Hope you like it - it was a very different direction for me in my writing.

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As parents we do what we think best for our kids given the resources we have at hand. Whether you’re rich or poor doesn’t matter a bit though when it comes to what they need most. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to parcel up things like happiness, love and joy and simply hand it to them? Perhaps. But then they wouldn’t learn much of life for themselves that way either. It would be like looking at someone’s vacation photos instead of being there experiencing it and saying it’s the same thing.

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This poem was the first one I ever had published.  Even though I can see it could do with some tweaks here and there now, I still like the poem and wouldn’t change it for that reason. Yes, I’m a softie, what can I say! I just don’t want to lose the essence of it.

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I’d like to share this piece with moms everywhere, my wish being that it gives even one mom out there a glimmer of hope on their not so good days.

Based on a real event, it was written in remembrance of what probably seems like an ordinary moment to most people that passed between my son and I. At a time though when I’d felt that we were losing the connection we had, this unexpected insight was all the more precious. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

The Threads That Bind Us

The silver needle finally acquiesced to the probing black thread.
Do all parents go through this, I ask myself.
The object of today’s battleground lies crumpled upon my lap;
A day old winter jacket already looking shabby,
Scarred through carelessness. Squinting at black fabric,
I concentrate on repairing the gaping, saw toothed pocket.

What had been a pleasant enough day was now marred
By the blazing argument between mother and son.
Falling tears catch the lamplight, rolling then
Splash landing on shiny dampened material.
We no longer share laughter, just angry words it seems.
I pause mid-stitch, an awful thought striking me…
Does he hate me?

It doesn’t seem so long ago that he was a happy soul
Before hormones and homework engulfed him.
The battle had ended hours ago in slamming doors
Only to be replaced with a thick, sullen silence
Seeping from his usually noisy room,
Cloaking the very air that I breathed.

A soft knock announced his arrival. He slips quietly into the room.
For the briefest second, I marvel at this awkward man boy
Almost filling the door frame. I dare not raise my head too high.
He shall not witness my tears, not now, not ever.
Never show weakness in battle, even if you feel it.
He shuffles his feet. I gather myself in readiness for round two.

“Yes?” I say stiffly. “Sorry, Mum…” he mutters,
Leaning forward quickly to kiss the top of my bent head.
I am so stunned that I cannot respond immediately
Nor even realize that it would be too late anyway.
He’s retreated already to his own domain.

Then a funny thing happened.

In amongst all the confusion,
In that single gloriously precious moment,
I know suddenly -I know- that no matter what,
No matter how many times we fight and argue,
We still, and always will, have love.

A torn pocket I can replace.
My son, I cannot.

It’s funny to look back on my writing and see the “light bulb” moments in life entwined in amongst the words. Reflections of Self was written a number of months after Mask. It illustrates how the experience of depression captured in Mask can in fact be overcome. Not necessarily in a flash of brilliance or overnight but with simply a small glimmering of hope for change, because sometimes that’s all we need to set ourselves upon the road to recovery. Reflections of Self is a poem about turning points and tells the story of mine. Read the rest of this entry »