"Blest Be the Tie that Binds"

 

 

 

She steps, maelstrom surrounded,

infant at breast, quietly taking milk,

head of daughter at her hip, one arm encircling Mama's leg

another reaching into unknown whorls.

Mama clutches in free right hand many overdue bills

eyes fixed ahead, driven, consumed.

Father follows, resentful,

remote control in hand, relaxed

absorbed in the news, waiting for his

supper to fall out of her hands

as it fell from his mother's.

God forbid. She is lucky to have him

at all. She does not feel

lucky. She does not think.

 

The maelstrom reddens, thickens. She stifles a scream

in her fright, final, surfaced, total.

She falters and turns

to face him. He has no strength to hold, to give ... no eyes. He blames.

He beats.

 

Daughter lets go to stand alone, deaf, mute.

They stumble, divided.

The maelstrom rages, unaware.

God forbid; Grace provided.

Trickle down a culture, family, strong,

united.

 

 

 

 

 

©1985

Aurora, Agnes Scott College

Amy Jackson

 

poetry

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