Guest post - a poem by T. Lapworth

A visit to the Doctor

My son sits with bleakness in his eyes

So what follows should be no surprise.

His physical and mental pain makes him wish to end it all,

No one listens, takes us seriously, no one at all.

The doctor observes with a detached and clinical air,

Not a flicker of empathy to register my sons' despair.

He resents my presence I feel it in his demeanour, how he sits,

So rigid, defensive shutting me out,

But it’s my baby there; listen, help him, everything within me shouts.

We come out into the street, cold, grey and the sky is full of rain,

If only I could take away his pain.

I want to grasp him, hug him, and soothe away his hurt and strife,

But I stand, paralysed, feel like my heart is squeezed in a giant’s hand

I brush his shoulder with the lightest touch; try to let him know I am here for him; he is the most important person in my life.

I go home, keep busy, and cook a nice tea,

Hover outside his bedroom door in anxious uncertainty.

My poor boy, my heart is full, but I struggle how to let my love show,

Can he feel it? Does he know?

If only I could put a plaster on, make it better, make it all go away

But there’s no closure for us today,

I love you, Son.

T. Lapworth

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