Looking Glass

Just a note to say this isn't true. I go by what my last instructor told us about writing good poetry. "Divorce yourself from the truth for the sake of good poetry". I believe all we write is a part of us but I'll just say that what I write isn't necessarily true in my own life. In this case I took truth and added it onto my own fear of being helpless and worse still, being a burden in any way.


I grow impatient with my mother
She’s so slow and complains the whole time
I have to prepare myself when I visit
Put on a shield against hurtful words

I wonder how long she can live by herself
I can’t visit her more than I do
Can’t keep an eye on her and the house
Can’t always make sure that she’s safe
She might be better off in a home
With professionals around the clock

My last visit I was sure I’d go mad
She'd repeat herself and couldn’t remember
I told her, “It’s OK mama
I don’t always remember myself

She said, “You're not fooling me
You say one thing but your eyes say another
I know you don’t want to be here.”

My daughter is busy with her career
I look forward to her visits and calls
Last night she said, “Mom, you walk like an old woman”
She went off then onto other things
How much she enjoys being with me
That I always make her laugh
She mentions how pretty I looked that night
But I saw it, that look in her eyes

Judy Roney
November 2, 2009