Mother

1

Mother, the dark is coming

 

from beyond the sea.

 

It is moving above the waves,

 

over the driftwood

 

on the sand, winding through

 

the mist-covered land.

 

 

I will stay with you.

 

I will hold your hand.

 

2

Mother, when I was young

 

and afraid of the night,

 

you bought me a light

 

and sat by my bed.

 

You said that the dark

 

could be my friend.

 

 

I will stay near you.

 

Stay here until the end.

 

 

3

Mother, I remember how

 

we waited on the lawn

 

that night until the dark

 

dissolved into colours

 

and the scary shapes

 

were familiar and clear.

 

 

I will stay beside you.

 

There is nothing to fear.

 

4

Mother, the dark is here.

 

It is only a shadow

 

that covers your body

 

and you are the light

 

within its shape—the flame.

 

You burn so brightly!

 

 

Now, I hold your hand.

 

Now, I call your name.

 

 

 

 

                                                            Louise Wrightson—October 2019

 

Louise Wrightson has an MA with Distinction in Creative Writing from the IIML (The International Institute of Modern Letters) Victoria University, Wellington. She lives and writes near Otari-Wilton’s Bush, a 100-hectare reserve of regenerating forest. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and journals.