Could I help it 
That from the nursery
I saw a televised war ? 
It couldn’t be helped 
That from your nursery 
I lost your father, 
That there were children 
Where answers should have been. 
My blessedly radical friends 
Called for change,
because I am a Mother
I colluded prematurely 
That the world would 
Welcome you with open arms. 
Because I was a Mother
I took a single step 
Over and over 
Poems stopped making sense that year 
There’s no Sabbath. 

There are always, outside, wars in the making. 
Look out, into the wider world-
Could I help it if I saw nothing to offer up to you?
Future blind and heavy heart.