The School Trip
The tears that loomed
All day, have finally spilled.
And over a lost page -
A checklist of what she will need
As she goes away.
Who is more anxious at separation?
I am the one sitting up after midnight
Checking labels on luggage
And praying over folded clothes
That she will be OK.
Slipping notes into the washbag,
Pondering which shoes
To squeeze into the bag.
The trigger for the spill
Something quite different though:
The fear of another looming separation
Possibly to be made in defence of the vulnerable.
That part in me, that part in her.
The realisation that this life
Just gets more and more complicated.
And the tangle of relationship
Can pull you up mountains
And rip you from trees.
That loving another
Can bring you back down to your knees
To that bleakest place -
Of feeling 8 years old
And just wanting to find home again.