Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Pass the Parcel

by Rachel Irven

My guilt is an old guilt,
Passed through generations of women
Like a parcel in a child’s game.
When the music stops it is my turn,
To unwrap a layer,
Open the parcel,
And what will I find?
 
A new life
Waited for and perfect.
Love and resentment grow
Mingling together.
The old guilt struggles and is freed.
Numb, I watch the outside world
Uncomplicated by emotion, continue on its way.
Back here, life has narrowed
Subordinated to the future.
 
 
The nursery game continues
 

Added: 28.04.2011

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