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I feel the cave in
The sudden shift under proverbial foot
When all the hard learned lessons
& the calm wisdom, goodwill & resilience I built up as my “self”
(“Who am I?”)
give way, & I tumble, flailing
into the seething abyss of past hurt, loss
& sense of being wronged
Without forewarning
without defense
or ANY kind of sensibility
Overwhelm pours into every cell
I could ‘pop’ …at any contact
the tears & snot & toddler wailing burgeoning under tight red skin
We do our dance “It isn’t fair”
…& she in her own space of overwhelm & pain
A plump companion she hugs close & defends from any chance of separation
My heart aches for her choice of comfort
& from her prickly “Push-me-pull-you” interactions
Neither of us feel safe
Both feel abandoned & bereft
Yet cultivate layers of impenetrable membrane
It filters out the love & good intention I know we both
Hold up like white flags of truce.
Dear one, I wish you well.
I am grieved that you were witness to my own pain in a vulnerable moment
& more-so that you saw it as an affront to your own drama & turmoil.
I feel so feeble in the face of your resentment & judgement
& all I want to offer you is love untainted
Care that reaches you in strength & empowers you to move forward
I curse the tentative fashion of my offering
the remorse I feel at failing to reach you with intended goodness… again
How I hate this step-drama.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Very quick response to a long phone call last night which left me reeling in mother guilt, angst & a sense of helplessness on a few levels... so I worked through it by writing this.... I know it needs work, it's hardly a poem at this stage... more of a story of feelings, with a small amount of poetic expression... feel free to weigh in... I'll be rewriting.
Editing stage: 


chastise and beat ourselves up for slights and imaginings; [theirs and/or ours]. I really hope that you put a finish on this, it is something that many of us feel throughout our lives. I love your title! Step-children and parents are so vulnerable to the arrows and pricks of conscience. I wish you well in your efforts to deal with the pain. I have a pretty good relationship with my "children not of blood", but over the years there have been misunderstandings and I know the effort that must be put in. I wish that the title [step-child] was not so well ingrained in our culture, that it comes to the lips so readily. Maybe at some point, during it's inception, it was meant as a endearing term, such as; one step removed from my blood? Still doesn't sound right. Anyway, keep writing and I will be looking for the rewrite on this. ~ Gee.

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Yes, I agree, tricky. & even with blood children the teens & 20's can be rife with complexity. I am very lucky with my own birth bub, he is generous & kind, even to his mama. I hope to make time to rewrite this in the next few days.


My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment

Wow! This is raw and real to me. You said it needs work, but to me it feels authentic like you have just poured out your feelings in the moment onto the page - I am sure with work as you said, it could be more however a poem should be, but to me, its perfection is in the first unselfconscious honest draft.

You are exactly right, it was just poured out... I do that to try to work through things that are going on, .especially if I am challenged by them - It helps me, I've been doing it for years & never really thought of it as poetry much, certainly I never thought anyone but me would find it even vaguely interesting or worthy of reading.
It is gratifying that you "got it", authentic is important to me... I tend to like the raw stuff too.

Thanks again


My dear friend always told me "Water the seeds of joy first"

author comment
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