Madness In The Eighties

She smiles and I float,
She frowns and I fall,
Her brow furrows and I question myself,
Her questions ask me why and I worry deeply,
She once thought she was a healer,
Walked barefoot twelve miles,
'curing' people along the way,
Her feet, 
bloody and dirty by the time she reached her destination,
People glancing,
Internal questions,
Societal English stiff upper lip,
No-one asked,
She claimed to be magical,
She said I was the son of god,
That there were demons all around us,
That there were assassins waiting to shoot me,
Hiding around each and every corner,
In a way, she was right,
Her beautiful long black mane like silky strands of angel hair,
Her eyes like emeralds,
But her stare manic, 
Quick like a hungry protective fox in the madness of a hunt,
She was dragged from our door,
Trying to protect me as I hid upstairs,
Her voice, wild and crazy,
Screaming through her tears,
Her anger sent her arms flailing,
The policeman lost his hat to a right hook,
Then,
From my hiding place,
I continued to watch as she was taken,
Feet dragging on the cold, dirty pavement,
Shoeless,
Bloody again,
The policeman's arms around her neck,
Dragging her backwards and away from me,
The screams fading until nothing,
But the Birds chirping, 
a dog barking in the distance,
My tears silent then popping as they land on my comic,
Alone in the house,
They'd forgotten me,
Cavelike and vast,
Dark and alone.

The hospital visits,
The walking dead,
Shuffling and dribbling,
Once proud and well kept, 
Once a beautiful lioness,
Strong, tall, happy, protective, adored,
Now lost, rambling, zombified, forgotten, drugged,
The outbursts resolved with needles,
Male 'nurses' wrestling her to the floor,
Like a crazy game of rugby,
Slamming her to the deck with a sickening thump,
Her nightie sailing above her head whilst she struggles,
There on the linoleum,
Her nakedness for all the visitors to see,
My eleven year old mind trying to take in this awful sight,
Burnt into my mind,
The needles stabbing her like nails,
The screams, the tears, the shock, the quiet sniffle,
The slowing down of her resistance,
Lock a clockwork doll,
Running out,
Winding down,
Then dragged off,
No excuses,
Just time to leave,
No apologies,
Madness does this,
No questions,
No answers except one,
Madness.

The children's home,
No mother to call,
No father to know,
No hugs for bedtime,
No tears to show,
The man-boy I became,
Chest out,
Eleven and tough,
Skin like armour,
Titanium,
Impenetrable,
But vulnerable,
Tears only a conversation away,
The older girl,
Opening up on her lap,
Her warm bosom surrounding me,
Sealing me off from the madness,
Then away and cold.
Some days good some days bad,
Too many lessons learnt early,
The magic of my mind tainted by the cruelty of this life,
This strange and painful world of extremes,
Feelings like a violent arctic ocean,
Powerless and thrown around like a rag doll in it's surge.
I pushed on.

This world has a beauty behind all pain,
But my mother was never the same again,
No father to pick up the pieces,
No brother or sister to turn to,
Your hope and love is your saviour,
Your words and books your life raft.

The mind can snap in silence,
This world can turn quickly,
Remember your duty to love,
Don't forget inside every action is a child,
Wanting to love,
To be loved,
Behind every cruel word,
There's insecurity and a longing for understanding,
In every bad moment of your life,
There's a divine notion and a tenderness of nature's hand,
A lesson to learn and a compassion to grow,
Never cry for the bad moments,
Turn them into teachers,
Soar above the negative like a bird from the flame,
And fly in all your splendour,
Burst across the sky in your righteous love,
For all to see and share,
Love your lot and question not,
Open your mind and love,
For there's a beauty in every single part,
Share it.