A child in the park makes my heart ache.
In green overalls, she trots, explores
and looks like mine.
Ducks, patch of grass, a dog lazing by
she sees for the first time –
my heart, it aches.
Mother, standing out of the way,
gives her space while she learns –
with that fearless walk, she looks like mine.
Just like my hair, my resolve, my eyes.
I was as brave once – choosing my ways.
The child, she breaks my heart.
Even the echoes of a stranger unknown
sting me with wonder, a nameless pride.
The child – she looks like mine.
Bare feet on the grass
I walk on
away from the park. My heart aches
no child is mine.
“It’s all there in the poem: the pain and joy of seeing children when you haven’t been able to have your own. I like walking and was on a Sunday roam around the local park, when I saw a two/three-year old very purposefully and confidently exploring her environment. She looked very much like me as a child, except with a little bit of something else mixed in. Her mother was the kind of mother I would have wanted to be: keeping a loving eye, but letting the child learn and build confidence on her own.”
Maura Holmwood is a pen name. Children never happened for me, partly due to unhealthy relationships, partly through choices that led to different priorities in life. I don’t know how painful that really is for me each day, and am not ready for conversations with friends and family based on the sense of loss in these poems. I have published in poetry magazines and studied writing at MA level. Thank you for connecting with my work.