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.
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