Poem of the Week | In limbo by Angela Washington
In limbo
by Angela Washington
Curled up in bed
a tiny shrunken foetal figure
white hair on white pillow
her body scarcely there
swamped by white covers
still as death
in limbo
stuck
in a no man’s land
hovering on a threshold
waiting
for a resolution.
Strange
how such a small wasted waif of a creature
is still able to dominate a space so completely
and utterly
just by being there
no change there then
impossible to tell
if she’s conscious
of my presence
the daughter
who should have been a son
she never got over that
would she want me here if she knew?
impossible to tell
can she look back?
does she have regrets?
was she happy with her life?
with the decisions she made?
would she have changed anything
if she could
I wonder?
this woman
who bore me
and I
are strangers in the most elemental of ways
cagey closed compliant
in her final years
a grand master of obfuscation before that
I’m still intrigued to know
what makes her tick
this woman.
I took my leave
briefly
that sunny Sunday morning
promising to return
after lunch.
Curled up in the bed
she’s a tiny shrunken foetal figure
white hair on white pillow
her body scarcely there
swamped by white covers
still in death.
Did she know?
was she waiting for me to go?
so, on her own terms, she could take her leave?
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