Mother complains of headache and flu
in the old-age home, sign she is bored,
no tests, crises, or intrigues to attend;
I remember her hating boredom, she
left usual tasks undone, beds unmade
kitchen in a terrible state, taking us to
visit a friend instead
Dad and grandma returned to find an
empty house in chaos; on our return
mother charmed them playing piano;
ten years ago mother was paralysed
in bed, a friend called, inviting her on
a trip – she jumped up, roaring to go,
carrying her own bag downstairs
Moments before Sister had served her
in bed; depression’s the same with me,
overwhelming flu taking hold until an
interest ignites new passion, cured in
an instant I move like lightning – I wish
it was possible to help mother conquer
inability to deal with fear of boredom
If only she could find a victim in distress
to care for, helping others always makes
her feel cheerful, if only someone would
provide a focus for all that boundless
passion I inherited from her…
13 June 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem