Women Walking by Carole Satyamurti
PN Review 57, September - October 1987
Women Walking
1
My day is fettered by my mother's steps.
I learn the shopping list by heart,
discover architraves.
Walking this slowly
I nearly lose my balance.
I've not got that long
- at my pace I'd be going
somewhere, not marking time,
her arm locked on to mine.
2
My daughter's somewhere else.
Her tenseness fusses me
into unsteadiness.
Her arm is wooden.
Once there was suppleness,
a balanced give and take,
a comfortable distance.
I didn't ask for this
- time, pace, speed, out of my hands.
3
Haven't we walked this way before
- a child fumbling, breathless,
clutching to keep up;
a mother tethered to a clinging hand?
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This poem by Carole Satyamurti is taken from PN Review 57, September - October 1987. Further contributions from Satyamurti are available in the archive to paying subscribers, as well as more poetry, features, reviews and reports from across the back catalogue.
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