Pittsburgh

Grief clinging like wet mist

Memories fogged by its presence.

White wraiths on the Tree of Life

Bird's flying at the sound of gunshot

May their memory be a blessing

Survival

As I child I learned very early on
That there is no one there.
No one came when I cried
No one came when I fell
No one came when I hurt.

You were always there, but these things were always my fault.
So clumsy! So easily upset!
Or "I know you how you feel
but my pain is MUCH, MUCH worse"
Be in thrall to me

Your illness transcends all
it's the sky of my childhood,
Everything is lived through its storms

Everyone reads the weather better than I
And blames me for not wearing a better coat
Or not knowing when to run
Or being me.

I'm tired

I'm tired of being frightened of late night phone calls
Tired of weary voices telling me you're sick, you're unwell
Tired of letters inviting me to be involved in your care
Tired of the disappointment when I can't
Tired of the relentless anger and fury
Tired of being blamed
Tired of the number of times you threatened suicide and didn't
Tired of the blood pouring out of my nose and my glasses breaking - I was 8
Tired of caring and caring and looking for love
Tired of validation through hate
Tired of seeing you piss on the bedroom floor
Tired of you hearing voices
Tired of the unending fear and suffocating protection
Tired of the hiding
Tired of the shouting and slapping
Tired of counting the days until the next assault
Tired of mapping your moods in my diary
Tired of self-protection to deflect the abuse
Tired of being resented
Tired of not being loved
Tired of being sworn at, beaten and madness
Tired of fear
Tired of hatred
Tired of you.

You were never my mother, only my jailer.
And I'm free