Just when you thought that it was safe…
Or probably you did not think at all –
A violent eruption from the depths.
“Come on, you knew it was there!”
But ‘out of sight is out of mind’…
All quiet at first, contained and sensible,
Reactions well under control, fear pushed away:
“Nothing has changed (not so you’d notice anyway)”
And why is that good news? IT’S NOT!!
A stark reminder, this is how it is – and always was;
We just chose to forget (it helps you cope)
Come on, soldiers, ‘as you were’
Too late, sir, no can do!
Proverbial feline creature has escaped textile restraint,
The hidden secret truth is out –
Our half-held hopes are dashed…
When all that boiling, buried, inner magma breaks the surface
How can you force the molten lava back?
A landscape changed beyond repair, there’s no return,
The elements remain but shift their shapes –
Our path moves forward through a different scene.
While staggering with the seismic aftershocks
The house of cards collapses;
Despair comes seeping through the cracks.
Gauche metaphors describe the churning – it’s too deep for words
The straw that breaks the camel’s back,
A bad day in the life, resilience lost,
He rages, throwing all his pain at me.
(Of course – I am the closest).
Crumbling in tears, undone as I have rarely been –
I cannot fix my son or fix myself…
Too much to bear!
Within a day he’s back on top –
The friend that helped was sent from heaven –
A beautiful apology, his mental structures back in place,
Defences, plans renewed.
“Nothing has changed! We’ll carry on just as we were”
Brave man – a son to make a mother proud.
But her recovery takes time,
The hot rock spewing forth, the ground less solid now,
She lurches drunkenly among the debris,
Trying to tidy up, but having lost the requisite loose ends;
Holding instead, an infant in her arms,
The raw revealed anguish of her boy –
So secret and so private and so real –
Seeking to soothe the trembling of heart
Accompanying “Nothing has changed”.
Where was I?
Hope flew out the window for a while,
A temporary blindness gripped my soul,
But opening the pane I’m peering out
To see her swift return –
The dove that bears the olive branch,
The fragile butterfly of grace.
Because – “nothing has changed“…
We simply glimpsed the boiling rock,
The abyss right beneath our feet –
And certain death.