There’s no one now older than me.
That makes me top of the family tree
There’s no one below to catch my fall.
I’m alone with old photo albums to trawl.
Thought I’d be fine after decades of their stress,
but from their loss there’s now an emptiness
I never expected to feel. After years of abuse
I honestly thought I had nothing to lose.
I hated for so long, resenting them fully
never feeling free to be what I could be.
And yet, without them here, my cellular sense
is vague and unsupported. Money matters clench
my tummy tight, as fear snakes up my throat,
my heart feels hard against parented people who gloat
at their mother’s day, father’s day cards and meals.
Quietly I know that one day they too will have to feel
what it’s like to lose and never get back that chance
to appreciate, to forgive, to enjoy the dance.