Undone

My mother was an artist.

My father, a well-travelled academic, fell in love with her fearlessness and grace.

If you don’t believe in love at first sight, I tell you now,

It happened.

He showed her how a dollar bill can laugh and frown at the same time.

She showed him the top of the city from her point of view.

He made plans to be with her.

She saw and he promised.

They built a home on rocks, trust and commitment,

Out of gifts, twigs and wishing dust.

And when the walls came down

She begged for forgiveness, only to find he had already given it to her, in her back pocket when she walked away.

That’s when she realised,

That the path was full of pebbles,

Rocky stones and dimly lit.

But he said that they were measured by how quickly the stitches came together,

And not how often it came undone.