her worries were splattered across her kitchen floor
splotches and blobs of hazy colours that stained
the pristine white tile
dancing in her vision
growing and shrinking and morphing until
she closed her eyes
warding off the pain that dallied
at the edges of her temples
she tried to clean them
scrubbing with the elbow grease her mother
taught her to use
each aggressive thrust abrasive and uncompromising
but still they remained
dark and cavernous and
entrenched
she tried instead to ignore them
stepping carefully around each spot without acknowledgement
pulling her toes from their edges
and clenching calf muscles in anticipation
of their expanding advance
until there she stood
frozen and afraid
and stranded
sometimes they got too close
grabbing at her like hungry animals
wanting her to feed them with her fears
and she shouted and cried and the
people who could only see white tile did not know
what surrounded her
the things that threatened to swallow her whole
or break her apart
but then sometimes she simply stopped
her eyes fixated on the blobs of moving colour
and she watched and waited with patience
for the next transformation
as each one slowly recoiled, shrinking but not
disappearing
and then she began to move again, carefully stepping forward
in motherhood
© 2023 Shirley Hay