My Mother Swam in the Thames Once

joy bubbling/erupting to the surface/
girlfriends wildly free/

she sets her sights ambitiously high/
shuns the slums/ becomes/
a mother at 16/ a home owner/
a full time worker/

she turns heads/ her laugh infects/
she is chased/ and in turn chases/

with great happiness/
comes great loss/
the battle for a child/
leaves a bitter taste/

foreign skies beckon/
living life from where sun/
kisses desert blooms/
to jungles that whisper of life/ yes/
but also of doom.

Harm lingers/
meaning no good/
her heart once so vibrant/
now deep in despair/
beaten by darkness/ no fight to survive/
pain like daggers/ diminishes drive/

once effervescent/ now haunted by scars/
in pills found her solace.

I’m left with a sketch.

I ask myself/
how can I capture this grief/
this heartache/ the tears/ the ink/
which spills from my heart/
each time I think/
of my mother who swam in the Thames once/
whose silence now fills every space.