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"My mother, myself" by Bonnie Meekums



We have slipped on ice and toys. We have slipped out of our clothes, dog tired at the end of the day. We have slipped an extra tablet into our mouths.

We have not had enough money to feed ourselves. We have not let the children go hungry. We have not had the energy to read a bedtime story.

We have been told we are made in the image of Mary. We have been told we must try harder to roll that boulder up the hill.

We might, if we’d had enough energy and not been stuck inside all day cleaning and crying, have marched with banners like we did back in the day.

We need to learn to be all things. To all people. We need to learn to manage our time better.

But maybe tomorrow, just for a change —

We will stop bending over backwards. We will pause our saying sorry. We will give ourselves time to repair. We will seek help, grasping it gratefully with hands and hearts connected. We will lie down, nourishing body and soul. We will stand Amazon-tall and banner-broad. We will write our own futures.



Bonnie is a British writer whose work has been previously published by, among others, Roi Faineant, Reflex Press, Ellipsis Zine, the Dribble Drabble Review, Ad Hoc Press, and Tiny Molecules. She loves the form of flash fiction - paring words down into molecules of beauty.

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