My Mother

My mother has irises the size of quarters,
or so they seem to me.
blue like everything that is as blue as them,
deep as everything so deep.
My mother loves to look at things
to drive around and see
but when I’m in the passenger seat
she cannot see me.
My mother has a rare disease,
or so the doctors say
in words she cannot understand
with meanings I must convey.
My mother’s plight is invisible
like the right side of her world
quantified by pills she pops
and all the plans she’s cancelled.
My mother’s friends and family
like to pretend she’s okay
that she’s not fighting for her life
every single day.

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8 Comments

Filed under Poems

8 responses to “My Mother

  1. I bet that was difficult to express. I bet your mum’s proud of your words.

    Liked by 1 person

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