Superwoman Has a Dark Side

Finely cut crystal –
silver and gold –
sparkle and entice.
A table fit for royalty.

Savoury aromas evoke visions
of sumptuous gravy,
delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables,
and decadent desserts.

She’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, hungry
and bored with the waiting,
tug at her hem.

It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare,
then wait.

They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days,
fail to remark on the preparations

They’ll sit
be served
praise the deliciousness
gobble up seconds
push back their chairs
wander off
for a kip
or a smoke

and she’ll linger
picking at congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at a red wine stain
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
without bitching
without protesting
a trouper till the end

What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?

Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.

(This was originally penned a few years back, and I resubmitting it here, edited, for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday. Photo is courtesy of Deb Whittam as part of her prompt.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

25 thoughts on “Superwoman Has a Dark Side”

      1. Me too! Actually I wrote this after the onset of debilitating disease, and I couldn’t even cook for myself. It made me really examine life. Now, either my daughters host, or we do potluck.

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  1. and her dark side is what keeps her living on a different rhythm for the days when she has to be her best even though she does not feel like it. i feel like that at holidays, tired from the cooking but happy to see the mess, and everyone gathered

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