Heard, Held and Healed by Her
For the beautiful, inspiring woman who gave me life
(and continues giving me life each day.)
Cashmere cardigan cuddles;
Her warm embrace swaddles me lovingly,
Rive Gauche fragrance has paregoric effects.
I remember cuddling her same-scented clothes as I slept
While she worked all night to provide for our family.
I am back on the lap I have sat for two and a half decades.
Lovingly listened to, more importantly, heard.
Salty streams flow down blotchy cheeks from bloodshot eyes,
Wailing animalistically, heaving without boundaries,
I am held.
My years of memories with my mum
overlap and weave into a rich tapestry of
tears from now running into tears from yesteryears
like a tsunami of catharsis washing me free.
She swoops me up and I feel safe snuggled in her breast,
my head rests; soft, sweet words of love soothe my ears.
She strokes my hair, there is solace there.
Pacified and validated; my fears dry up,
“You’re never too old for a Mumma cuddle,” we giggle,
lucky to be so loved.
Rosie Peacock © 2018