Maman
Who am I?
If not
your daughter
then
some stranger
who knows
little of what
makes you
happy or sad
anymore
than I can
forge through
hypochondria
and crushing
control
to get to
the heart
of what matters
Who am I?
If not
unattainable
in some way
beyond
your reach
now long gone
and far away
we become
strangers
brandishing
the two swords
of distance
and discourse
carving out
new roles
for ourselves
me, the parent
and you, the child
of passion
and of labour
Then pain
becomes
love
becomes
silence.
April 2011
