Excerpt
Dear Mother
Is it too much to hope
since you are 86 and I am 62
we can now accept the fact
that though we live in the same family
we are remarkably different
If we both acknowledge that this
my life you gave birth to
is usually anathema to you
frustrating and unmalleable
won’t it be easier
You can give up the training
the remonstrative clucks and steely glances
the raise havoc with feelings
and block communication between us
and we can be friends
Granny set this pattern earlier
assailing you with her headlong drives
but I say the blind compulsion stops here
and I encourage you to do the same
think how restful it could be
Can’t you try now to see me as a member
of a different reputable society
viewing you with the same scenario
coping in my own peculiar manner while
respecting our dissimilar styles
I’ll sew for you cook for you
listen to you and sympathize with you
but I won’t hover around suspended
like an insecure puzzled child
hoping to be accepted and loved
Understanding that game now
I have to stand back and refuse to play
don’t misunderstand and label it pique
rather selfishness of a healthy kind
because I need that energy
More pressing things require my attention now
like continuing to nourish my inborn optimism
and firming up goals for my next life
have you set yours
With love as always,
B.
