not yet

when the kids left I was bereft and had to write to say – at least in a journal anyway – ‘it was me who made all the mess in truth – yet still, the neighbours bang on about noise

I was young – unprepared – & terrified – determined, well, less lest ..’ and they wrote my history their way, eavesdropping eavesdroppers’ hear say

they’re not ready for the confessions yet

eulogies unearth and beget

It wasn’t until she was flesh before ash

before the final clank and pall

the very final curtain call

I truly ‘got’ my own mother at all

Forgive your own – they cannot know

not yet –

what not yet begets

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