Voices
In the days when children
were seen and not heard
my words were mute
my voice, empty
unable to by-pass the invisible
(and arbitrary) line
that accompanied a shotgun glare
or a clip-around-the-ear.
My fingers have learnt
to speak for me.
My own children's self-esteem
appears bullet-proof
their words sure-fire.
They open their mouths
and hurl their voices out
into the world.
It seems there is no line
invisible or otherwise.
No one will shoot them down
with ease, least of all me.
“My patience, resolutions and beliefs are tested to the limits – sometimes daily.”*
Right at this moment one of my challenges is the constant, tuneless whistling from my elder son. When my boys were babies it was getting them to sleep or trying to figure out why they were crying. On any given day now, it might be squabbling, fighting, teasing, screaming, shouting or rudeness. Who’d be a parent? We might well question ourselves after the event, but we can’t very well put them back! Just how we find those inner resources, how we constantly demand more of ourselves, how we keep marching up that hill with a smile on our face and gladness in our heart at the sight of our ‘babies’ is one of life’s mysteries.
* © from Being Mummy by Anne‑marie Taplin published April 2007