Thus I Wrote

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Mother V2

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Titian b&w

In that stone floored kitchen
I remember the friction
She stood with hand on hips
Her tongue through pursed lips
Behind my grandmother’s back
In impotent fury at her lack
Of kindnesss or empathy
Of understanding or sympathy

She was but twenty three,
A young bride recently free
With two children born
With another being formed
With difficult in-laws in-between
An old farmhouse to clean
And animals to harness
And produce to harvest
She had no indoor toilet
Or central heating or carpets
Or running water or electric light
Or friends or family nearby.

She was scared when the storms came round
And my father tied the thatched roof down
When the pig was killed she cried tears
As it was used to feed us for the year.
She cooked on the open turf fire
And milked the cows when tired
While my father sold milk to the creamery
To buy clothes, sugar and tea

A blow-in, it was said of her
And they were scornful of her
Of her lack of land and education
How she was now above her station
They could not see that the love
She brought in bucket-loads was enough
How she lit up that cold house
Meant she was more than a worthy spouse.

She was a Christian in deed
All the week it was soon agreed
She was a well of strength
With an addictive laugh freely spent
She attracted people to her
And over time won them all over.

Save my grandmother alone
Who had a hurt never shown
But which stifled her love
And her only son had never enough
My mother’s married life was tuned
To repairing that wound,
And at the end of his life of need
It seemed she finally did succeed.
He loved her so and learned
That he was loved by her in return
With such love his fear did cease
And he died, as much as we know, in peace.

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Written by thus.i.wrote

December 9, 2012 at 12:36 am

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