Motherly Love

I have spent a lifetime 

trying to break away,

trying to break out, 

trying to find myself.

Always on the edge,

always on the outside,

not quite a part,

of it, not quite 

a beatnik,

or a mod, 

hippy, or 

punk.

I was early to realise that

what she wanted me to be

was what she had wanted 

for herself, about her, not me.

I wanted to escape such love.

I thought I could escape.

I thought I had escaped.

And I did, surely I did

escape

some 

of it.

But not all.

Not enough.

So even now I feel tethered.

After all this time of leaving

her behind, 

I remain 

unsure

of my 

own.

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