Testament by Anne Elizabeth Bevan

A Song for Mother


She ground her teeth,

watching me, unshakable, ready,

each word a reddened scar across my

soft white skin.  Bleeding salty tears

and good intentions,

emptying my childhood treasures

carelessly to the orange carpet.


Silent then, she shook back her

dark hair, reddish in the

evening sun.  Dancing leaf patterns

stitched her mind together, raw

threads reflecting that other time.

Each year clicked roughly into place

and burned softly at our feet.


I didn’t notice her turn grey, it happened

while I slept in daydreams and doorways;

her voice continued not to reach me.  I

waited ‘til her mouth stopped moving

and left; behind me a limestone

woman, her colour seeped into a faded

orange carpet and I wept a song.


Anne Elizabeth Bevan

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