my mother’s home

Lois went to a place
full of old,

inconvenient people
sitting in chairs
lining the hallway

denied my impulse
to care for her myself
by her husband;

as he put it,
had a life 
& a family
of my own.

I said,
isn’t  she
part of that?

It doesn’t matter
now, because
the result was

since she saw us
just once a week
& could only remember
in minutes

other people
became her family,

not us.

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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2 Responses to my mother’s home

  1. jeglatter says:

    Oh Susan. I am glad you are writing all of this out. In the process you are describing a truth so difficult to put into words…and something so many people on this Earth suffer through. Tears are just streaming for me personally. -Jennifer

    • Now you’ve got me teared up…..the next one is going to be about why I call her Lois in most of these poems, and not mother. I just figured it out myself today.

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