Grim In Deed

Motherless
Avaricious
Noxious
Daughterless
Yecch:

You were a wicked willowy woman,
Like one of Lowry’s matchsticks;
I wanted to snap you in half
But then,
There would have been two of you.
Like Grimms’ evil creation
And with an air of perfection,
You nonchantly swept
Into my childhood
And steam rollered
Your way through,
Flattening my dreams.
For a twig, like my stick insect
You wielded some power.
‘Why are you here?’ I asked
But you never answered.
To me you rarely spoke,
Just hurled a constant icy glare
At my constantly wet face.
Your purse favoured Gucci,
Neat lines, nothing out of place,
(Like Audrey eating breakfast-
But I liked her).
Sharp cuts, no creases,
You dressed like my dolls,
Though always in black and white.
Had you a number instead of a name
It would have been One.
Everything matched in your life,
But me.
I was your antithesis
As I grew, yet I gained no power.
With no fruits born from your orchard
You picked at and stripped
Me of my own blossom,
By inserting those exquisite red talons
Like claws stuck in their prey
Digging deeper and deeper.
But you splintered your nails
When they hit your brick wall.
As steadfast as I could, I stood still.
But you
Kept on and an on
Sucking my early years from me
Until I was as desiccated as my mum.
Oh how I ached for her, (Mum why did you leave me to this?)
Instead, I got my nightmare.
I hurt looking up to you
And I pained for nothing.
Mismatched mother,
What did I do wrong?
I remember most vividly
The colours you chose,
For me though, not you:
Bright pink on brown,
Big circles that shimmered
Like raindrops in puddles
Or when my tears splashed.
Yellow and green
Was not my colour either;
What was in your head
Stepmother,
Dressing me like wallpaper?
Purple and blue squares
As sharp as your tongue,
You made sure you covered me
From head to foot
And not just with poor clothing.
Little things to please you
Failed as pathetically as my attire.
Was I really that bad,
Or just another layer
Of your life to be peeled away
And discarded
When you tired of my monotony?

You stole my life for a while
But I fought back,
And survived you.
That makes me victorious.

Many years have passed
And your image is strong.
Now and forever black and white,
Disintegrated to ashes and dust
Yet here I am, strong.

I can blow you away.
I have wanted to do that forever,
I have finally succeeded.

Gone

Old age was not meant for him.
Never would he know the pains of old bones
Nor the folds skin flops into,
Hiding crumbs in the dark and stray hairs
That edge nearer the light like potato sprouts.
Nor aches that remind me I am hurtling slowly
Towards my own bed in the ground,
Inhaling death with each breath
Until there are no more.
From the stresses of existence, he escaped.

I missed his passing,
Knowing only once his sweet body
Had been reduced to ash,
Not unlike the ends of the cigarettes
His mouth was once so attached to.
A cloud of sadness, like the clouds he would exhale
Surrounds me. Still,
I cannot reconcile this. My strong man
Reduced to cinders
That were scattered whilst I slept.

Memories of us always bring
Tears that caress my folds.
My eyes will never again absorb his beauty.
Our perfectly matched lips forced apart by
Two wheels, spitting out the dirt
And spattering the path like his body did
As it crashed down, splintered beyond repair.
Both of us motionless, but
I heard his faint cry of my name
And then it went black.

A weathered white cross
Springs out of the ground.
It droops like an old snowdrop
Bearing withered white petals,
And showers flaky paint. This is our confetti.
He is still twenty-three and will always be
The sweet man I would not keep.
I am punished for my survival,
With the pains of my old bones and skin that folds,
I wait for my passing.

Stepmother 

Pink on brown, 

big circles that shimmered like 

raindrops in puddles, or 

when my tears splashed. 

Yellow and green was just not my colour. 

What was in you to, dress me like wallpaper? 

Purple and blue squares as 

sharp as your tongue. 

I felt each prick with your icy glare. 

Little things to please you as hopeless as my attire.

Was I really that bad, or just another layer of your life to be peeled away and discarded when you tired of my monotony?

endings

Endings 1

We whooped away all the long summer days,
Our skin thin cotton flailing in the haze.
We played until the sea swallowed the sun,
Our feet tickling the sky all summer long.

We scooped away all the long summer days,
Stuck to our lips. ‘Come and wash!’ our mum says.
Splashing and chasing, rushing and jumping,
Not caring if we fell and were stinging.

But then it suddenly came to an end,
This innocent fun with all of our friends.
Our smiles disappeared like a blackening sun.
First dad was here and then he was gone.

Alone in the vast, our hearts ripped to shreds,
Piercing screams echoed, tearing through our heads.
Innocence shattered, we’d nowhere to hide,
Footprints of youth washed away like the tide.

Shadows of our past returning to me,
Closing slowly in on freedom to be.
Dark days were ahead though none of us knew,
Dark days were ahead as we grew and grew.


Endings 2

My ring long gone, though its imprint remains,
Two decades rushed by and now I’m alone.
My splintered heart will never be the same,
Like the disintegration of my home.

Sad, peeling walls shed the dust of our life.
Blocking my sight, I see no more sun,
Now i know I'm no longer his wife!
I tried, but now nothing more can be done.

With echoes of us swirling round my feet,
Little voices dissipate in my head.
The stark bare rooms as empty as my heart,
A void unfilled nothing more can be said.

Silence, as the final box shuts on us,
It’s a different path I take from my home.
His shadow does not follow. I make no fuss,
As I head forward for once all alone.

He gets smaller and smaller as I go,
Still crushing what’s left with nothing to show.
Though my life is now mine and mine to make,
I hear his footsteps with each step I take.

Naliboki Forest 1942-44


Tall trees paint the infinite blue sky
with the seeping red of the weak,
whilst lower branches reach out to us to sweep
us in to protect. Nature beckons from the Ghetto, but lies.
One hell into another, longer nights but less sleep.

Eternal sleep for some, as bomb filled machines circle
above a vast sea of green, hunting,
firing death at scurrying life below.
Deeper. Faster. Darker. In we go. Further we run, the more we are seen,
forced to play this deadly game of hide and seek.

Cries of anguish near and far; death is all around
this paradoxical place of beauty.

Gold stars fade in the soil amongst the fallen leaves.
The spared few brave a naked white winter, huddle and forage for
fuels for all nature’s endurance; scarce like our squandered lives.
Keeping the forest alive, their hearts are defiant. And then

the high sun, years clouded by violence, suddenly bursts through.
The black lifts as we silently step back towards the pieces left of us.
Faster, faster, charging through these splintered acres of death.
We are finally victorious in spite of our tragedy.






My baby girl


Cocooned snug and warm, she lies deep inside
me, a need to stay there almost to hide
for forty long weeks to grow and mature,
is this my destiny to create and nurture?
My body has changed irreversibly so,
giving life to my child in order to grow.
My spine curves away, I can’t see my feet
and all my mouth craves is everything sweet.
My body is ready but never my head,
When her arrival commences, is the time that I dread.

Cocooned by myself and all preparations
I distance myself from my flapping relations.
Unable to grasp just what lies ahead,
I spend my whole days thinking of nothing instead
of my nearness to pain, how my life has now changed
for the better I’m told, though I feel quite estranged.
She’s on her way out. I panic. I’m scared,
but a strange feeling envelops me, I would not have dared
to admit to myself, first tears and now laughter, instant love that I feel as I meet my first daughter.

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