I’ve recently been thinking of life and death. My mother is now eighty seven and frail, Refusing care, even if we could get it for her now, it’s sad hearing about her frailty and vulnerable life. I’m coming up to sixty. Questioning life and mortality.
Care givers are hard to find, budgets are cut
The frail and elderly not important to society. Social care budgets. None for you or me.
Once a young girl, where has she gone. Washed away by life , like sand by the sea. Feeling sad now at times. No longer quite me.
The girl and young woman, who once ran, jumped and climbed trees to hide, now hidden by my body, illness, trapped inside. Questions unanswered , they can never be.
Sadness inside, washes over me.
Government policies make living with illness and disability too much,
at times, to bear. Society plays into the blame game
No longer does it care.
Illness and disability has caused the economy to crash
Not the Bankers of course,
Their greed the mishmash!
I miss my Mother, as she once was. But I know inside she’ll feel just like me
The young person she once was, bright, alert and funny.