And at the peak of my insanity
A moment to glance away from my apparent reflection gunning down with its eyes of La Mort
I know that if I am able to glance away
at that reflection
of utter fear and self-loathing
my child in her stark purity dancing in front of the mirror.
If I found myself standing over her
pick up the comb, attend to her dutifully then
This motion is fuelled by a fierce love.
A fierce refusal to allow her child to be abandoned
by her own mother
The same mother who flees from her Self every day.
If this is not a demonstration of love
then it is a moment of clarity
I see the reality I have created.
I’m ready to tipple
Tears or bourbon
I’m no longer sure
Does it matter?
Then it is a moment of clarity.
These are my words.
Inspired by reading a passage of ‘Memoirs of a daughter’, written by Simone Beauvoir and her relationship with her mother.
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