Mother is a Hustler

My mother
Would be Virgin Mary
If she had blue robes
And a school nativity baby Jesus
And a halo
Half price
From the dressing up section
In Tesco
And on her age worn face
Is always worn a smile
As valuable as the Mona Lisa
With NHS teeth

She has no notions of grandeur
And no one is beneath her
Her kindness knows no perimeters
And if Jesus
Had been wandering
Our beaten tracks
He would’ve been
Out of a job
And signing on
At the DWP

She serves burgers
For the big Maccy D’s
Tomato ketchup with a side
Of joy on your cholesterol fries
It gets her knees
But living off her pension
Gets her pocket
And eBay is so addictive

She plays the saints
At their game
She was dealt a shitty hand
But holds those cards
Like a seasoned hustler
And when her time comes
I know she’ll
Be showing God
The true meaning
Of love

©2020 Sarah Drury

Childline Lockdown

With the Coronavirus lockdown, children are at even greater risk of abuse. This could be emotional, mental, sexual or physical, but a lot of the reports the NSPCC are getting are related to emotional abuse. It is proving harder for social workers to gain access to homes due to lack of personal protective equipment, social distancing and lack of staffing.

NSPCC can be contacted here:0808 800 5000 or via help@nspcc.org.uk

Here’s a poem I wrote through the eyes of a victim.

Childline Lockdown

I don’t know what
I did wrong
Cooped up
24 hours a day
Radio blaring
Incessantly
Happy people singing
Bullshit songs
To people in
Their bullshit lives
Abusive husbands
Battered wives
Shit scared kids
As tempers fry
And swift fists fly
And I swallow all
My tears
Cos if I cry
He will get angry
Again I’m
In enough
Fucking pain

I have a friend
I call him Ted
He’s been with me
Since I was two
Keeps the monsters
Out from under
The bed
Soaks up the blood
When my dad
Sees red
But it’s the monsters
In the daytime
I’m really scared of
I call them dad
And mum

Social workers
Knocking on the door
But mum knows how
To play it
Long sleeves
Hide the bruises
Walked into the door
Hit my head
On the table
So careless
One day I’d probably
End up dead
Social worker suspicious
But dad always says
I was clumsy

Ted understands me
I can tell him
Anything
When dad is
Screaming
Temper raging
Ted helps me to sing
Over the Rainbow
If I had a phone
Then I would ring
Childline
But it’s the fists
I fear

And it’s a long time
Till I am sixteen
Then I will tell
Them all
To fuck themselves
That day I’ll
Be queen
In my own kingdom
And there’ll be no
Fists for bombs
No ‘what did I do
So fucking wrong?’
And I will shine
That day
Like a
Rainbow

©2020 Sarah Drury

Daddy

My husband died 9 years ago so not only was it my loss, but my 3 year old son’s too. He has never really spoken about his father before, it is as though he never existed at times, but the other day, when it was our 10th wedding anniversary, my son’s grief suddenly hit him and came out in a huge torrent of emotion. It was a liberating event for him, but devastating at the time, for both of us. I have written this simple poem for him.

To see you
Bleeding your
Heart out
There, son
With your tears
For daddy
9 years gone
His body now
Ashes in urns
Feelings exploding
In turns
of Rage
And sorrow
Crying for a father
For who there’s
No tomorrow
Holding hands
With thin air
Wish I could
Borrow
A future
For you
And daddy

You said you feel
Cheated
9 years passed
When you could
Have amassed
Memories
Moments that last
Forever
Rage
When you’re at
A stage
Going into puberty
You missed all that
Sitting on
Daddy’s knee
And I’m trying to see
How I can make
It up to you

I want to mend
Your broken heart
Fix the trauma
Of being apart
From him
From the man who
Was our rock
Who stood by us
Through thick
And thin
Who passed away
And could
Never say
“I love you son”
And you were
Too young
To comprehend
It’s sad that
Our love had
To end

All I can do is
Hold you close
Son
Salve your
Broken tears
Try to be the most
Empathetic mother
For there is
No other
Now
It’s just me
And you
So sorry, Kid
There’s nothing
On this Earth
I can
Do.

© 2020 Sarah Drury