A Poem for Thursday....."Antibiotics"

My mother lived alone after dad died even though she was the one who had been ill.
Looking back to when I was still living in the family home in Belfast and rebelling if not outwardly ...definitely inside...I'm thankful for this woman who was a rock formed in the fire of extremely difficult circumstances.


                  Antibiotics

She never cried, she was as solid as a rock
Except on the days she remembered her sister
And the fun they had shared in the big house.
But apart from that she was a stoic and
I knew that the winds of life would not bend her.
Except on the days we made the beds together
And she sighed as quiet tears wet her marshmallow cheeks.
A memory of her mother tucking white crisp hospital corners
Around striped ticking mattresses.
But that was all there was to it then.
I could never hope to come up to that steely reserve
And be the unmoved.
Though there were occasions when the armchair in the corner
By the fireplace seemed too big for her.
Too big, and she filled  the edges of the cushions
With lace edged hankies damp and tucked away and hidden.
Then her brother's name was whispered quietly
As if such a thing could never have happened.
Though it did, for those were the days before the miracles.
We call them antibiotics and warn our families against taking them.

A Poem for Thursday..."The loss".

We thought
That maybe we had lost her
On the day
They blew up the BBC building
In the middle of the city.
Her office
With it's ancient glass roof
Abutted the back wall.
Saving the Company
A need
To make her office more substantial.
Safer.
She never complained.
She was a lady who lunches.
And so it was on that day.
Though no thanks to the army
Who didn't like to make their way
Down the darkened alley
Into her lonely room.
Only the jolly aunt called
Before the detonator blew it all up
And gave her the..."Let's go Mary".

We thought
That maybe we had lost him
On the day
They targeted children
Near MacDonalds on Bridge Street.
He was selling his cheery mugs
announcing
"Mum"
And
"Nana"
And all those other titles in between,
Hawking his wares
In the shopping mall.
But the second bomb was at Boots
Where the children had run for safety.
So it missed him.
And he
Jolly as ever,
Found solace in the Town Hall
Where his son discovered him later.
And with northern canniness
Shrugged and said
"Glad you're safe dad".