Death Reveals Inadequacy

Mother is fearful,
time slipping through her fingers,
loneliness enveloping her.

I hold space for her in my thoughts,
my heart aching in beat with hers.

Guilt tosses me up and down –
inadequacy knows no bests.


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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.

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