The sticky plastic green of the arm chair holds my body in comfort,

My mind a jumble of distress,

Tangled together thoughts like the creeping of the laundry pile,

Listening patiently,

Tears pool in my eyes,

Pulling out a tissue from the packet,

I wipe away anger and distress,

Heightened emotions increase the flow of menstrual blood,

Crimson stains seep into the cerise skirt,

Thinking of Rothko’s colour field paintings,

Shedding the womb lining,

Another egg gone,

Sons growing in strength and independence,

Exasperated with conflict,

I understand the fear,

Follow me, catch me, back home again, this is no game,

Each day exhausted by love,

I understand your need to be close, to feel secure in my presence,

But there is a desire to run fast, to hide and not be found,

About Helen Sargeant

I am a visual artist, mother of two children aged 12 and 4, and co-founder of the MeWe arts collective. I intend to use this site to explore how my personal experiences as a mother informs my arts practice. To reflect upon the maternal in relationship to memory, loss, and mental health in particu…Read more


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