A Forbidden Mother’s Day Poem

Soft arms, loving embrace, reassuring warmth.
Always there,
For you.
Flowers, chocolates, Sunday roasts
Drying dishes
Laughing at the park
Cheering for you
Drawings on the fridge.

Stroking your hair, crying
with you.
‘You are worthwhile.
Don’t listen to them.
I love you.
You are wonderful.’
The mother of Mother’s Day cards.

Except what
When she’s not?

No cupcakes, no love, no warm
soft embrace.
No always there
No loving care
No ‘always in my heart’.


The hard slap
of sharp words.
The bite
of cruel laughter.
‘God, you’re buxom!
Everyone can see
your rolls of fat!’

Her litany
of demolition:

‘You got a good result?
Because *I* prayed for you.
You got married before your sister?
However did you manage that?’
‘What you do doesn’t matter.
What you say doesn’t matter.
What you feel doesn’t matter.
Because you don’t matter.’
‘You will toe my line
Or be ignored.
you are
to me.’

But hush!
Say nothing!
Society pretends
that such

Her hands molded
the young clay.
The pot is now
bent, cracked, broken

But I can’t find a card
that says this.
So, I say nothing.


13 thoughts on “A Forbidden Mother’s Day Poem

    1. Not at all, thank you for commenting, Nichole! My commiserations that you too know what this is like. I hope you can realise your full potential despite a very unfair start in life. I’m beginning to do this through my writing – it’s therapeutic.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I can painfully relate, especially to the ‘She’s your mother and to say anything disparaging about her is to be disloyal’. How about the loyalty that should also flow from mother and daughter? Writing really helps to deal with ‘the stuff’. Thank goodness for it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It was hard to click “like” on this – because I hate that you had to go through this! But let me tell you one thing:

    The pot is now
    bent, cracked, broken

    Bent, cracked, broken – yes. But beautiful and a wonderful friend and a great writer. Loved.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Very powerful! Just remember what the Japanese do with their broken pottery (kintsugi). They repair the shattered pieces with gold and they become all the more beautiful, just like you! It is sad how many of us can relate to your poem, but there is power in our numbers and we can take back our lives.

    Liked by 1 person

I'd love to have your thoughts:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s