We crossed that bridge as five
But only mother and I survived
Your father and brothers will be back, she wiped her tears and said.
I know this was a lie, for her eyes flickered with remorse and dread
In a fleeting moment,
My identity changed from a boy to what they called a refugee.
Mother said it meant we were people with no guarantees.
no guarantee to shelter, food or drink.
no guarantee to life or new beginnings.
Can we go back? I pleaded.
Back to where? she snapped.
The bridge is broken, our home is gone.
What’s left is us and us alone.
Then almost trying to mend my bereaved soul, she hugged me tight.
And once again lied,
I will always be by your side.
Photo by Steph Lord-Wetherington https://www.lordywilder.com/bw-photography
Things which get my endorphins pumping – my kids (mom of two), coffee (green tea just doesn’t do), writing (find it a cathartic release), dancing (absolutely, first love it remains), reading (with or without coffee), working out (with my husband as my buddy).
You can read more of my writing at Curating Thoughts