Laura Foley captures the pain of being a mother unable to help an adult son in this stark poem.
—
Invisible Darkness
My son, grown lean and strong
stands near me by the kitchen door and says
he wants his life to end he is so tired.
The kind of tired that comes from long unseen struggles.
I turn my face away
to see the mist of river ice rising.
And I become busy
with water and plants.
The room is quiet, almost silent.
I go outside
to find the jar of seeds the birds like best.
I pour the seeds with care against the feeder glass.
And after this—
after this—
what else will take my tending?
***
Originally appears in Mapping the Fourth Dimension.
Laura Foley has published with us before. Browse more of her work here.
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