This may be the best poem I have ever read.

Or, at least the best on motherhood.

I first found it in the weekend age 4 or so years ago.

Since then it has been torn out and re-pasted into journal after journal.

So that it’s page grows thicker with each new home.

Here it is Doona, by Petrina Barson


Five thirteen

and the lump in the doona

beside me moves.

It was you, my Lara

my limpet, my lovely

suckered child

elbowing me to

a grumbling dawn.

I detach — perilously —

but leave you sleeping.

Make it past the oddly angled Maya

feet on pillows-

for a moment

lacking opinions.

Achieve the Kitchen,

slippers and a cup of tea

and sit — elbowed

from the inside

by the next in line.

Would they hate me if they knew

how little I can breathe

beneath this cascade

of children– how

I can’t remember

what I’ve forgotten

as their requirements

pound against my shore.

I am a messy cliff-line

bits falling off everywhere

sculpted into wordlessness

by the daily grind

the beautiful breathtaking grind


I have not been able to find much about Petrina Barson other then she wrote the poetry book ‘Then We Were Four…”

It was supposed to be a collection of poems on family life but morphed into one of grief… I am too tender to buy that book yet, but I will.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: