Alan, my favourite writer of dark poetry, manages to be both subtle and glaringly shocking at the same time. Check out this remarkable poem.
I’m at my support group meeting, Families Anonymous; created for the benefit of the families and friends of addicts, and I decide to share my triumph.
I say that I am learning to cope with my children’s addictions.
As soon as the words hit the outside world and are heard by my anonymous siblings in suffering, I know that they’re a lie. I’m not learning to let the pain pass me by, or making the most of my own life no matter what unsolved troubles surround me.
I’m feeling happier than I have for a very long time, but that’s only because my son’s ability to damage me has been limited by his lack of access while he is in prison, and my daughter’s behaviour has improved since she escaped the madness of legal highs.
As soon as he is free and she whips up another crisis my muscle will probably crumble and die.
I doubt I’ve learnt anything, and I wonder if I ever will.
Written for The Daily Post #Learning
©Jane Paterson Basil