This Sunday’s poem of the week is: Trying

I normally post the poem that received the most likes or comments on Instagram on my blog here each Sunday, but this week I'd like to feature this poem from an upcoming collection I’m putting together for Mother’s Day.



We’re going to town.
I try to help
but, home from England,
I don’t know where
anything goes anymore.
And anyway, you say,
no need, no need.

Your outdoor shoes
are ready by the back door.
Overcoat. Hat. Scarf.
Umbrella. Stick.
Tick, tick, tick.

You held me as I took
my first steps.
Will I hold you
as you take your last?

In town we shop,
then walk the quay
where the Slaney
empties into the sea.
Elbows linked. I try
not to feel the old guilt
for taking the life (a part
of) you wanted me to lead.

Now you are showing me
how I will walk,
and, afterwards, back
in the house
making us tea,
how to reach gently,
bend slowly,
meander around hurdles,
like the river, winding 
through south county Wexford
on its way to return 
to its source.
Patient at last.

I try not to help,
to let you
allow us no need.

To receive award-winning poetry from me each month, become a poetry patron on Patreon (just $2 a month).

Register here.

Orna Ross


Sign up below and I'll send you First Flush, a mini-poetry book in ebook and audio--and my quarterly non-patron poetry news: Pause for Poetry.

Once you've entered your name and email address, watch out for my email. If it doesn't arrive, check your spam folder.

I would never spam you. Unsubscribe anytime.