When I was ten

My mother fell in love
At forty-four
This time
With a boy of twenty nine;
That should have been fine
Apart from the fact
That I loathed the man
And that was that

A man named Chris

She was quite mad
Quite, quite, mad
For this Hollander lad
And that was bad
For, if she loved him
She could not love me
So why could not she
Leave me be with my dad?

It drives you mad
It makes you evil
Leaves you sad

At the age of ten
Raged on and on
Again and again
Cover it over as you may
With smiles and miles
It lives to rise another day
Thrives on the guise
Of indifference
Liberal minded tolerance
Nonchalance and ego defence
Is the time
When tenderness
Rules us fools

Is the time
When tenacity takes hold
Vows are made
In times of old
That takes us prisoner
For years untold
Is the time
When tentacles stick
To keep you fast
Held in the grasp of the past
Ten is the time
When tension grips you tight
At night as you suck the thumb
That keeps at bay the fright

Ten is the time
When you try to fight
To battle off the pain that rages
As you try to gain the upper hand
Again and again for ages
And ages and ages.

Ten is the time when you fall
Into obedient apathy
Decide to kill yourself ~
For failing history

I was ten once:
Remembering now how it was
I slither into sadness
Until a sun’s ray
Filters through the shutters
Shaking me up to the pleasant day


© Tessa Lowe 2010


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