Ode to the Tired Ones

A Poem by solsystemtillnervsystem

You see them in the front of cars,

Drinking worn-out coffee in weary card cups,

Picked up on the way home

After cheap holidays they can’t afford

To the Isle of Wight.

You see them with smiles they don’t mean,

Pointed at the rear-view mirror,

Where they can smile at the kids in the back

Without really looking them in the face

Because that would be telling.

You see them in their houses, past midnight,

Putting the kettle on for another cuppa,

One with the cheap Aldi coffee they all hate

Because they can’t afford the nice stuff

and anyway, it’s a treat.

You see them the morning after,

Staring at the mess that is their house and

Muttering, “10 letters from the bank,”

In the secret tone only parents understand,

Too urgent for children.

You see them on the school runs,

With their tired handbags and exhausted hair,

Dropping off their kids ten minutes late,

With toothpaste on their cardis

And clips in their hair.

You see them late for work,

Getting out the books and littering them

On the tables for other kids in ten minutes,

No time for any cheap coffee

From the staffroom.

You see them when the bell rings

And they pack up all their bags and pick

Up their boxes and head out the door

Fifteen minutes late for their own kids

Back at their school.

You see them in the drive-through

On the way home from work and school

Because there’s no food in the freezer

And McDonald’s is cheaper than anything

Healthy.

You see them when the kids are asleep

Crying down the phone to their parents

Too proud to ask for a loan

Too proud to ask for help

Too proud to accept any, “Can I come down?

Can I give you any money?

Can I pay for the therapy

you need but can't buy?”

They can't admit to it, their spiral

of paper problems

of head problems

of family problems.

Depression offers no sanctuary,

but they carry it anyway,

on shoulders ten times their age.

You see them all the time.

They’re the ghosts on the sides of the road.

They’re the extras in the movies.

They’re the passer-bys in the stories.

They’re the unseen ones

The background ones

Our mothers:

The tired ones.

© 2017 solsystemtillnervsystem

Author's Note

I should probably refrain from writing poems when I'm tired.

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Featured Review

Chryiss

Relatable situations written in a simple but impactful style. You found the small moments of tiredness and made them meaningfully brilliant. In particular, the looking in the rear-view mirror without actually looking. The entire poem throughout layered on this automatic listlessness in moving throughout the day, and the line breaks were artfully well placed. I love line breaks which allow different interpretations depending on it you read it with or without the break. For instance, the “McDonald’s is cheaper than anything / healthy.” Healthy read on its own seems almost sarcastic while still retaining that tired vibe.
I also liked the visual imagery such as in the depression on shoulders ten times their age lines.
But to wrap it all up in a just perfect finish.. what perfect person to describe all this weary devotedness but our mothers? How truly telling.