the dying in us all

i realise too late
(for youth and childhood)
the hardest emotion to feel
the thing i always fought against
and that which kept out all
was love, forgiveness.

how i imagined killing you
so many times
of making you afraid
as you made me
when round your own son’s neck
you placed your hands
and held him fast across the bath
the tap running, running.

i thought of stabbing you to death
of breaking your skull with a chair
and feeling pleasure on
the consummation of that act
approaching sensuality.

but now when all that’s left is time
and memories i wish
we could have loved each other more
knowing as i did that you
were just your own victim
and loved intensely still.

both patricide and matricide
recede as fantasies
the more you grow and realise
the dying in us all.