I close my eyes tight.
Abandoning my sight.
Hand pressed against my eye,
tears streaming, I try not to cry.
A small whimper escapes my lips,
As I move, and hop, and wiggle my hips.
The coldness soothes. No stinging now.
As I press the flannel against my brow.
The shampoo washes away,
Never in the eye again, I pray!
Karen Hayward ©2013 -Edited Image and words
The air is moist, here comes the rain
the poor brown cow, lays down in vain.
She nibbles at the fresh green grass
hoping the dark grey clouds will soon pass.
Droplets of rain fall upon her hide,
and she sighs, soggy grass for tonight’s side!
Karen Hayward ©2013 – Edited 2020 Image and words
We don’t ask for much only that you hear.
Trust us when we tell you it’s a founded fear.
Stop dismissing us as helicopter mums,
When will you see anxietys not fun.
You don’t understand I see it on your face,
every time I leave her here at this place.
You do not know best.
She’s not the same as the rest.
Every day I speak with you, every day nothing new,
Suddenly you decide theres a problem out of the blue?
And the reason for this problem, you haven’t got a clue!!
When I speak do you wander in your mind to your secret place,
Nod and smile, but you’re gone without a trace.
Do you know what anxiety is?
Can you recognise it?
Can you see it in a child as they cower from the clouds,
sudden movements, a chill, the shade, a noise that’s too loud?
Do you even see it, or is she so very quiet you just leave her be?
If she cried and she screamed and she stamped her feet,
If she ripped her work and kicked her seat,
Would you help her then?
Would you scour books with paper and pen?
Would you be afresh with ideas to help my young girl,
Could YOUR understanding of anxiety, change HER world?
Karen Hayward ©2016
Memories.
The whole flat smelt
of aged tannin and
a low whistle could
be heard at all times.
‘Tea?’
There was always time for tea, sarnies too.
You might call her a feeder, she wasn’t but some might call her that.
Food was a sign of respect, you went anywhere they offered you sweet tea
and food. I used a cooker
for the first time there
in that kitchen with
windows that looked
down the hill past the subways and out toward mountains, my Gran always laughed and said ‘Just a coupla wee hills.’ They were mountains to my young
eyes. She spoke constantly
in her rich Irish roots peppered with her Scottish life, if I concentrated hard enough my English mind understood
some of what she said.
Her voice was soft,
a whisper a beautiful
melody, she spoke as I grated potatoes, carrots and onion, her smile told me I was doing good. ‘Eggs, Gran and flour and water too.’ I was reading thr recipe from my mind and hoping I had remembered everything, we had cooked them a few weeks before in school.
She wears a house coat,
she has many, a blue one,
a pink one a brown one,
every morning she slips it over her clothes, I have never seen her clothes, I can only presume she wears them. She told me once, ‘wash your smalls in the sink every
night. That way you’ve always got clean.’ I asked what if you needed them…’she laughed ‘Go with out.’
A frying pan black as death and thick with grease
sizzles at my side.
‘Listen child.’
My Mum also says this phrase.
‘When you cook, you cook. Stay sharp keep thoughts out’
I didn’t listen, I burn most of what I cook because my thoughts make me
wander. We sat at
the table, the small
window behind me
and the radiator to
my left, I feel warm
and safe. I don’t
recall what the
food tasted like,
just her smile as she devoured the plate.
Karen Hayward ©2015.
I hear the wine flowing and the glasses chink
as you miss the table and hit the sink.
Mother and daughter addictions together
thrown in the garden whatever the weather.
You talk above the same old songs, and I wonder
if you know that your behavouir is wrong
or that there’s a rat in your kitchen running a mock
it’s a matter of time, tick fucking tock.
As predictable as the sun that moves the dial
smeared face and blood shot eyes is your style.
Mother dearest your spirit is broke
I saw this in your face the moment we spoke.
Fuck this and fuck that ‘cos the world is so screwed
but you never consider that the problem starts with you.
Ten green bottles sitting on the wall
every single night I hear them fall.
A knock at the door and the bed springs go
Daughter dearest, do you think we don’t know?
You sing as it moves to cover the sound
to hide the white powder, another round?
Your a tight knit unit all full of love
broken souls that are fucked up and stuff.
Excited greetings and laughing galore
filling the glasses who wants more?
Voices go up voices go down
I can actually hear when you’re wearing your frown.
The music begins and everyone sings
till the spiteful tongue brings out its sting.
Tears are falling and the mask no longer fits
true colours shining none of you give a shit.
The lamp is broke, the glasses shattered
not that any that truly mattered.
You scream you push, so much pressure
you lose the very thing you pretend to treasure.
Flashing lights and a friendly face
an easy call for them to trace,
again today, again tomorrow
mother and daughter full of so much sorrow.
Karen Hayward ©2015
Do I dare hope that you are the pill,
That will,
Hold me captive
Through the night,
Holding back the light
So i can sleep,
whole and deep,
Without,
Even,
A
single peep.
Will you lock me away,
and make me stay
in the abandoned hope
Of a mortal soul,
That without sleep,
Cannot cope,
As my spirit weeps.
Will you?
Is it true?
Are you the pill,
That will,
Give back to me
sleep,
So deep,
with not even
A single peep?
It is officially winter. Darkness has swept in and as I finish work and walk across the pitch black car park, toward the alley that leads across the small stream of water. I am overly aware of myself. The darkness surrounding me, the lack of light illuminating my path. I cant help wondering why in a society so obsessed with technology, why do we still have unlit alleys? When i use the toilet a little light senses my movement at the door and clicks on, so long as I continue to move the light stays on. So why do they not put a similar motion detector through the car park and into the alley, like a little lighted gangway? Why are women, and the vulnerable still being allowed to put themselves at risk? In a society that likes to declare endlessly that it has moved on and is now treating women with the respect and fairness they deserve, why are we still left to walk into situations that put us into danger? There are two other ways to leave the car park, neither of them have lights and neither are what I would consider safe. Ok rant over spose i better by some pepper spray and a torch!
Do you know when you have so many thoughts in your head that they refuse to form into coherent sentences, that’s where I’m at right now, so I thought i would free write them all out.
My daughter fell over at school this week, running in the playground. It should have been a simple fall, stinging hands and slightly grazed knees. It wasn’t. She didn’t get her hands out quick enough to stop the fall, so instead she has a swollen face, swollen nose, cut lip, grazes spread across her beautiful face, and knees that are torn apart. It broke me. The school are in a catizzle because she didnt put out her hands, i’ve been telling them this for years, and they choose now to notice. She, the gal, being the problem solver she is, has a simple solution to the problem….don’t run, not ever, she is never going to run again, and i’d like to think this is a child’s empty threats, but they’re not, for her never running again is the solution. It should end there, the fall has happened and war wounds created, but it doesn’t, her dressings on her battered knees need changing daily. The unknown causes her more fear than anything else, this coupled with her inability to locate certain pains, means that what she is feeling is intense and scary, she is scared, confused and in pain. And as I cleaned the cut, her howling in pain I remembered, I remembered how it feels to be helpless. I felt completely helpless. And I remembered the feelings of helplessness and inadequacy were the reasons I didn’t believe I was capable of becoming a mum or a good mum at least.
So a simple every day experience broke me, I crumbled, all the strength I have fell to the ground as she screamed in pure panic. And perhaps it’s the realisation that I am still capable of breaking, or the knowledge that I am vulnerable that worries me, i’m not sure, I just know that I am not strong I have a weakness that can break me.
I love you,
i love you as i love the sun and the moon
and the stars in the endless black sky,
I love you as i love the sea that ebbs and crashes upon the shore,
And the petals that fly and fall at my door.
I love you as i love the emerald sky,
and the rainbow that waves goodbye.
I love you.
I love you as I love the autunm leaves that fall to the ground,
as the world continuously spins round,
I love you,
I love you as I love myself,
I love you.
I sometimes wonder how deep into my mind I would let you wander if I took down my guard and removed my disguise.
Could I imagine waking next to you in the dead of night, would the shadows still call me to my feet.
Would I slip my fingers into yours as we lay happy in the silence.
I sometimes wonder how far in you truly are,
Deeper than i believe,
Deeper than i can see,
I think,
You have already,
Conquered,
Me.
Xxx.
blossomsworld 