Tag Archives: the woman in his life

The woman in his life

I was always the woman in his life.
Through all of the abuse.
he knew he could rely on my love
and he loved me, he always loved me.

He stole my money and more;
he took all of the things he could sell.
I struggled to keep the heart beating in my chest;
I fought to keep those gems that fade when all is not well;
the seasons, with their soft and crisp textures and breath;
the goodnight kiss of each evening sunset;
each mealtime caress on the tongue.

As a last resort
I curled up in a tight ball;
with less inches exposed to the air,
less pain could enter my body
while I thought about:
the pull of the moon;
the ancient hills of my home;
the hazel eyes of a long-lost love;
the waves crashing on the cliffs at Porlock;
the thrill, as a child, of holding an unread book;
and soon I would unroll, take up my laptop,
and write much of the remaining pain away.

Just recently
I have been superceded
by a wild and lovely young rose;
who with one blow, has tamed my son.
so long I have waited for this day to come;
a day when he would cease tormenting me;
when my suffering would evaparate,
as my beloved child’s life
finally came together.

I celebrate
and am relieved,
while the edges of me
ache with the
grief of
loss.

The Daily Post #Together

©Jane Paterson Basil